


The Beginning of Truth

by Laralee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 167,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laralee/pseuds/Laralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thunderous sound of multiple Apparitions and the rebounding of various hexes and curses assaulted her ears, causing her to momentarily bring her shaking hands to cover them for relief. How had they been found?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

 

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**“Prologue”**

_The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is.-- Winston Churchill_   


  
  
The thunderous sound of multiple Apparitions and the rebounding of various hexes and curses assaulted her ears, causing her to momentarily bring her shaking hands to cover them for relief. How had they been found? Quickly regaining her senses, Hermione cast a Shield Charm and ducked behind a phone booth for cover. Looking behind her, she saw Harry and Ron take cover behind a car parked on the curb. The covert trip to a Muggle supermarket for food and supplies was quickly turning disastrous. Hermione quickly retraced their steps to determine when and how they had been discovered.   
  
The three of them had decided to Apparate to the heart of Bostall Wood in the early hours of the morning and then continue with a twenty-two kilometer trek into London under the Disillusionment Charm. Hermione had frequently visited Bostall Hill with her parents when she was younger and knew the area quite well. So well, in fact, that she was able to successfully Apparate the three of them under a small bridge that many people wouldn’t have noticed unless they were looking for it. She cast three flawless Disillusionment Charms; first on Harry, then Ron, and finally herself. It had taken them roughly an hour and a half to reach their destination and when they were quietly inside she removed the spell so they could purchase the items they needed. They spent no more than five minutes inside the supermarket and saw only three patrons and the lone clerk who waited on them when they were ready to pay. Nothing looked amiss. Where was the mistake made? Suddenly, Harry’s voice jerked her back to reality.   
  
“Hermione, we have to move,” he screamed in her direction. “Stay where you are, Ron and I are coming to you.” Trying to provide cover, Hermione quickly sent several hexes and jinxes around the corner of the phone booth, unsure if they had hit the desired targets. Looking overhead between the flashes of different colored light and falling debris, she saw the Dark Mark floating precariously overhead.   
  
“Harry, Death Eaters!” she shouted while firing spells in rapid succession in the opposite direction.  
  
“I can’t see them! They must be Disillusioned!” Harry breathed heavily when he and Ron made it to Hermione’s side. “You alright?” Ron asked carefully, looking her over as she nodded at his question.  
  
“Hold on to me, I am going to Disapparate out of here,” she told them both. They complied without question, each of them placing their hands on either of her forearms. Quickly clearing her mind and thinking of her desired destination, she felt the urgent pull behind her navel end nearly as quickly as it began. An Anti-Disapparition jinx.   
  
“Damn it,” Hermione began, shaking her arms free from Harry and Ron, “I can’t Disapparate. A jinx has been set.”   
  
A stray curse hit a street lamp directly overhead, sending shards of glass and metal raining down on them. “We can’t just stay here! Come on, we have to run!” Hermione tapped her head with her wand, immediately feeling the sensation of a raw egg being smashed on her head; the signature sign that the Disillusionment Charm had successfully been cast. She turned and did the same to Harry and Ron, who nodded when they too felt the charm in place. Hermione turned her attention to Ron, instructing him, “Cast a Shield Charm and keep casting it until I grab your arm.” She turned quickly to look at Harry, who was waiting. “You need to deflect everything you can. Keeping doing that until I grab hold of you. We need to get out of the proximity of the jinx so I can Disapparate.”   
  
The phone booth they were behind had taken a serious beating, even with the Shield Charm in place. The screeching sound of metal being ripped into shreds signaled that it was now or never. The three of them quickly turned to look behind them. “Between the cars and down the street,” Harry said, pointing in the direction. “We’ll stop when we get to the café down the way. We need to get on the other side of the building.” Hermione and Ron averted their gazes in unison to spot the café in question. It seemed like an eternity away. “The Death Eaters won’t be able to tell where we are going if we are Disillusioned. Don’t do anything that would give our location away.” Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement.   
  
Hermione stood and the boys followed seconds later. “On the count of three,” she breathed shakily. “Stay close to me. I won’t be able to Disapparate if I can’t get my hands on you.” Harry and Ron held their wands out in determination. Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to speak.   
  
“One. Two. Three!”


	2. The Girl's Courage

 

  
****Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**  
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Chapter 1 

The Girl's Courage

_Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.—Mark Twain_

  
  
It was as if time had stopped entirely when the three of them began running for their lives in the most literal sense. How had it come to this? Hermione’s mind reeled as she helped Harry deflect the onslaught of curses and hexes. Just a year ago, before the three of them went on the run searching for Horcruxes, she was safe at Hogwarts. Granted, life then wasn’t as simple as it should have been for the three of them, but it was a vast improvement compared to their current circumstances. She should be studying for her N.E.W.T.s. She should be sleeping in her dormitory like the rest of the Hogwarts students. She should be able to wake in the morning, take an absurdly long, hot shower, and change into cleaned and crisply pressed school robes. For the love of Merlin, if the notion were to strike her, she should be able to go to a bloody Muggle supermarket at three in the morning without the fear of losing life or limb! Frustrated at what her life had become, she let a blood-curdling shriek escape her lips as she blocked a curse and sent it back in the direction it came.  
  
“Keep casting, both of you,” she said though clenched jaws. “I can feel the jinx weaken the farther we move out. Just past the café should get us out of its range.” The café was nearly two hundred meters away. Hermione inwardly grimaced at the distance. How were they to get out of this mess?  
  
At that moment, a giant red blast of powerful magic ripped past them, blasting a small parked car into utter oblivion. The entire right side of the street went up in flames. “Hermione, you have to try to Disapparate now. We can’t run like this forever,” Ron said, gripping his left hand around her arm rather forcefully.  
  
“Ronald, did you not hear what I just said?” Hermione chastised. “I can’t Disapparate when we are still within the jinx. Release my arm and keep casting the Shield Charm!” Ron recoiled immediately with a panicked look on his face but did as he was told.   
  
A giant blast of powerful magic similar to the one that incinerated the right side of the street blazed past them and struck a small shop to their left. In that instant, the curses that were coming at them ceased without warning. The three of them stopped dead in the middle of the deserted, destroyed street. “Harry,” Hermione whispered, her breath shallow from running, “they are blocking us in.”   
  
A high pitched squeal of delight broke the silence. “Such a smart one, filthy Mudblood!” Bellatrix Lestrange taunted, materializing out of thin air as she ended the Disillusionment Charm that was placed over her. Hermione found herself involuntarily reaching for her two best friends’ hands. Ron and Harry squeezed her hands at the same moment, providing her with comfort.   
  
Unsure of their location, Bella stretched her obscenely white arm in front of her and made an upward sweeping motion with her wand. “Finite Incantatem!”   
  
All of the spells in the area were instantly terminated. The Golden Trio became visible in the middle of the street, as well as the fifteen Death Eaters who were surrounding them on either side. “There, that’s much better,” the dark witch teased nonchalantly, “wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
The three of them said nothing, but stood their ground. Bella appraised them a moment before she spoke. “If any of you move or say a word, I won’t give you the honor of being killed by the Dark Lord. Is that understood?” Several Death Eaters barked out in laughter.   
  
Bella continued, making a rather large, menacing circle around the trio. “Now that we are all on the same page, we can get started.” Bella brought her wand to rest on her chin, carefully deciding what needed to be done next. Smiling slightly, she began. “Rodolphus, gather their wands.”   
  
A Death Eater to their immediate right began walking out from the rest of the group. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shifted their eyes to each other and Hermione offered a faint nod. The two boys moved slightly, placing themselves between Lestrange and Hermione, wands drawn the entire time. Hermione worked quickly once she was hidden by the boys. Quickly flicking her wrist, she dislodged an extra wand hidden in an elongated pocket up her jumper sleeve.   
  
'Just like we practiced,’ she thought, steadying her arm. ‘It will be of no use if it falls out now.’ Hermione allowed herself a quick smile before turning her gaze to Lestrange, who was not five meters from them now. In the back of the Death Eater group a dark-eyed man chuckled quietly as he watched the events unfold. ‘Such a clever girl indeed,’ he thought.  
  
“Expelliarmus,” Lestrange said lazily, flicking his wand in their direction. Their wands left their hands as soon as the charm left his hidden lips. Lestrange bent down casually to gather their wands before returning to his position in horde.   
  
“I expected more from the famous Harry Potter,” Bella spat. “You are hardly worth my time, let alone the Dark Lord’s. In any case,” she continued, “he will be pleased to finally end this once and for all. But before we take the three of you to him let’s have a bit of fun first.” The horde of Death Eaters erupted into a frenzy of laughter as Bella turned to face them. “Shall we find a more appropriate venue for tonight’s activities, gentlemen?” Bella immediately swept around to face the three of them, flashing them a truly horrific smile. “Imperio!”  
  
Hermione had never been placed under the Imperius Curse before, but had read enough about the Unforgivable Curses to know what to expect. An unusual calmness filled her mind completely and she waited to receive instructions. ‘You will take each other’s hands.’ The three of them took each other’s hands. ‘You will now Disapparate with me to Malfoy Manor.’ With the last command, the four of them disappeared leaving behind a smoldering London street.   


 

*****

  
  
Scoffing at the sight before her, Bella let out a shrill bark of laughter before she released the three of them from her curse with a simple Finite. Almost instantly, the calm feeling left Hermione. Her mind was cluttered with the events of the evening, leaving her disoriented. Suddenly aware of the change in location, Hermione dizzily dropped to the cold stone floor. Bella’s voice filled her ears. “Deal with them Lucius; I have business with our Lord.” Hermione didn’t look up, but heard the loud crack signaling Bella’s departure.   
  
“Get up, Mudblood. We haven’t the time for you to rest your filthy hide.” Hermione looked up to see the wand of Lucius Malfoy pointed at her forehead. Trying to figure out what to do, she turned to the left to see Ron and Harry being held at wand point by two masked Death Eaters. “I said get up! NOW!” Shakily, she made her way to her feet to stand before the Malfoy senior. “Now then, shall we proceed to the lower levels?” he said, gesturing almost cordially toward a wooded door that appeared on the drawing room wall behind her. Hermione turned to follow behind Ron and Harry, who had already made their way through the door. They walked down several flights of stairs until they came to a solid stone wall. Raising his hand to the wall Lucius spoke quickly, “Ostendo sum vestri speciali.” The stones turned into a hazy mist to reveal a very large, cavernous room. Lucius stepped through the wall with ease and turned to motion Hermione, Harry, and Ron through.   
  
“Potter! Weasley! Follow Carrow,” Lucius said, pointing in Amycus’s direction. “You’ll have a better view of what is about to happen to your little friend.”   
  
Both boys looked at Hermione with wide eyes. Her face had gone unnaturally pale and she began to chew her bottom lip out of nervousness. Anger coursed through Harry when Hermione simply nodded at them as if she were accepting her fate. “Stop! Please! You have me! You have what you want. Let Ron and Hermione go. They’re of no use to you!”  
  
Lucius spun around, backhanding Harry hard across the face, sending his glasses shattering into the stone wall. “Contrary to what you believe, Potter, your friends are of great use to us.” Lucius absently rubbed the hand he just used in the assault before he continued. “You see, the Dark Lord knows he can use your precious friends against you. Could you imagine the secrets you would divulge if you were to watch every ounce of her ‘tainted’ blood being spilt across this floor?” Lucius turned to look at Hermione, smiling as he saw the effect his little speech had on the girl. Before turning back to Harry, he spoke again, “I believe we have come to an understanding, Potter. Either you follow Amycus or she will suffer a fate much worse than death. It is your choice.”  
  
Harry looked almost faint and Ron was seething. Finding her voice, Hermione finally spoke. “Harry do as he says. I will be fine.” Taking her hand, she gently patted the secret wand enclosed in her jumper sleeve. To Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters it looked as if she was simply trying to comfort herself. Harry and Ron immediately straightened and understood the meaning of the gesture.   
  
Harry narrowed his eyes at the blond wizard. “Alright, Malfoy, we’ll play your twisted game.” The two boys walked toward Carrow in compliance, unaware of the single tear that slid down Hermione’s face.  


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 **Author’s notes:**  
 _Ostendo sum vestri specialis_ is a rough Latin translation of “Reveal your secrets”  
  
As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated!


	3. Prince among the Serpents

****Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.****  


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 ****  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Prince among the Serpents  
  
 _From the happy expression on their faces you might have supposed that they welcomed the war. I have met with men who loved stamps, and stones, and snakes, but I could not imagine any man loving war.  
\--Margot Asquith_

  
  
Severus Snape watched from the shadows as The Boy Who Lived and his ginger cohort were escorted from the foyer to the dungeons. When they were out of view, he turned his attention to the girl standing next to Lucius. Six months of running had not been good to her. Her usually bushy hair hung limp around her shoulders. The reflection of bits of glass and metal could be seen throughout her hair when she moved. Her clothing was worn and covered in ash and dirt from the ambush that had occurred no more than ten minutes ago. Even though her back was facing him, he could tell how thin she had become. He looked to her hands hanging at her sides. They were covered in dried blood, presumably her own. Looking closer, he could see a small gash that extended from the bottom of her left ring finger to the base of her thumb, no doubt caused by broken glass or flying metal. It was a miracle that her injuries were not more severe, given the nature of the attack she just went through. Snape turned his attention to Lucius when the blond man cleared his throat.   
  
Rubbing his face with his hands, Lucius began to speak to Severus. “Take care of her, would you? I must speak with Narcissa, briefly, concerning this morning’s unplanned events.” Hermione turned to see a masked Death Eater emerge from the darkened corner. An Involuntary shudder caused her to convulse faintly as she gazed up at his silver mask. The unknown Death Eater never spoke, but nodded his head in agreement. Walking closer to her, Severus thrust his wand under her chin and then pointed in the direction she was supposed to go. Hermione looked up at him through sunken, bloodshot eyes and obediently walked toward a darkened tunnel at the end of the foyer.   
  
The tunnel was narrow and winding; only big enough for one person to walk through comfortably without running into the damp stone walls. Small sconces that held a single candle provided minimal light, casting an eerily sickening glow. They were clearly several levels below the ground, in the bowels of the Manor. After walking for nearly five minutes, he knew they were far enough within the cavern to go unnoticed. Snape slowed and eventually stopped, allowing her to get a few paces in front of him. Realizing that she was walking alone, Hermione stopped and turned to look at the Death Eater. He was on her in an instant.   
  
He pushed her hard against the wall. Her head smacked the rough stone, sending a resounding thud reverberating down the narrow corridor. Hermione’s head lolled forward.  _‘Shite. Perhaps that was a bit rough.’_  Severus raised his wand to Hermione’s temple, “Rennervate.” Suddenly, she began thrashing and pulling at his robes in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. He grabbed her face with his left hand, forcing her to look at his eyes through the slits in his mask. “Look at me, Granger!” he snapped. Immediately, she looked up at him somewhat confused expression. _‘That’s right, girl,’_  he thought.  _‘You recognize me’._  
  
“You will listen to what I have to say to you. You will not say a word. Do you understand me?” Hermione shook her head, allowing tears of defeat and betrayal to roll down her face as she waited for him to speak. “First, drink these. You will need them for what you have to do.” He pulled two phials from his robe pocket, uncorking them in a fluid motion. He held the first to her lips, forcing her to take the contents in her mouth. Pepperup Potion. “Next one, Granger,” he sneered. Before he lifted the phial to her lips she was able to look at the contents. The liquid in the phial was like molten gold. Her eyes went wide in surprise and she gasped when she recognized the potion, “Felix Felicis.”   
  
“Ten points to Gryffindor,” he smirked. “Now be quiet and drink this!” She did as she was instructed, allowing every golden drop to seep through her. “Listen carefully,” Snape began, while easing his hold of her. “There is an Anti-Disapparition jinx over Malfoy Manor. Only those with the Mark may leave once they are here. So do not waste time nor energy trying to get to Potter and Weasley. Furthermore, you cannot fight your way out of here with that wand hidden in your sleeve. Do not bring it out under any circumstance.” Hermione looked at him with a pained expression on her face. How could he have possibly known? Snape dropped his tone barely above a whisper before he continued, “You are not invincible and you are only one witch. You cannot fend off a house full of Death Eaters and protect Potter and Weasley at the same time.”   
  
Hermione looked at him, fresh tears welling in her eyes, “What am I to do then? I can’t just leave them here to be tortured or killed!”   
  
At her outburst, Snape shook her rather forcibly. “Enough of this! You will do what you must to get yourself out of here. The only way you can do that is to do exactly as I say. Is that clear?”   
  
Regaining her composure, she looked up at him. “Yes, sir.”  
  
Severus Snape stared at the girl standing before him, thankful she couldn’t see his expression under his mask.  _‘I hope you are ready for what is about to happen to you,’_  he thought. Hermione, noticing him bore into her, began to wring her hands in angst. The movement caught Snape’s attention, bringing the image of her injury into his mind. “Hold out your left hand.” Hermione brought her injured hand up from her side and placed it front of Snape, open and upturned.   
  
Snape quickly thrust his wand at her palm. “Vulnera Sanentur. Vulnera Sanentur.” Hermione watched, astonished, as the angry gash on her palm faded and vanished entirely.   
  
Drawing a shaky breathe, she looked up into her Potions professor’s covered face. “Why are you helping me?” Snape cocked his head to the side for a moment as he regarded her question. Gryffindors were as subtle as Feindfyre. Slowly, he moved down to the side of her face. Hermione felt his hot breath falling on her earlobe and down her exposed neck. She shuddered in response to the chills that swept through her body. If she hadn’t been listening intently, she would have never heard his almost silent reply.   
  
“You and I are two very similar creatures, Miss Granger. You cannot hope to survive without my assistance and I cannot hope to end this without yours.” He quickly turned his attention to the end of the tunnel, then back to the girl. “Forgive me,” he whispered. Like lightning, he moved away from her, shoving her roughly in front of him. Hermione stumbled over her own feet before falling hard to her knees on the grimy stone floor. She turned to protest when the sound of laughter echoing from the other end of the tunnel caused her to freeze. Snape looked down at the girl, shaking his head. ‘May Merlin help you, girl,’ he thought. ‘You will surely need it.’ He advanced on her, grabbing her by her tousled hair. “GET UP, YOU CLUMSY FOOL,” he spat. Hermione let out a startled cry when he forced her to stand. Once she found her footing, Snape released her hair and pointed his wand at the back of her head. “Start walking.”   
  
As she walked, Hermione felt him slithering slowly into her mind. She had heard about his unparalleled skill as Legilimens from Harry but had never expected him to be able to enter her mind without looking her in the eyes or at least saying the incantation. She could hear his voice as if he were speaking to her normally.  _“Miss Granger, you are about to find yourself in a most perilous situation.”_ Hermione nodded at his warning.  _“Do not be defiant.”_  She nodded again.  _“Do not do anything rash. They will not hesitate to dispose of you.”_  Hermione stifled a small cry and shook her head quickly. _“I am going to try to get you out of the situation you have so foolishly placed yourself in.”_  
  
Before Hermione had time to comprehend his last words, she felt her professor pull from her mind, leaving her suddenly light-headed. Unable to correct her movements, Hermione stumbled through a small, stone archway and landed flat on her face in a dimly lit room. The occupants erupted with harsh laughter.  _‘I can’t give them the satisfaction,’_  she thought. Hermione made her way to her feet, her eyes never leaving the floor. Involuntarily, her tongue swept across her lips to keep the blood from running down her face. As Hermione’s eyes adjusted to the murky surroundings, she raised her head to face her demons.   
  


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Author’s Notes:  
As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated.  
  
  
---


	4. Servant of the Game

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

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Chapter 3

**Servant of the Game**

_DISOBEDIENCE, n. The silver lining to the cloud of servitude.—Ambrose Bierce_  


Severus Snape strode in menacingly behind Hermione, his wand still pointed in her direction. He paused momentarily to look around the room. He loathed this room. It was fairly dull compared to the rest of Malfoy Manor. Of course, in a room where a copious amount of blood is spilled, the décor isn’t taken into consideration for fear of staining. Save for a few chairs, the room was empty of furniture. The only source of light came from a green wrought iron chandelier that hung over head. This room was as bleak as its victims’ fates.

Several of his ‘associates’ were already present. Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphus Lestrange were standing to his left, quietly conversing. Near the back of the room, Thorfinn Rowle had his arm wrapped around Weasley’s neck; his wand touching the side of his red head. Amycus Carrow held Potter in a similar position; only his wand looked to be painfully protruding in the boy’s back, causing him to angle his body awkwardly. Turning his attention to the right, Severus saw Narcissa Malfoy seated beside her husband in a high-backed, green leather chair, looking completely put out for having to be present. Bellatrix, back from her visit, was leaning against the wall next to her sister, twirling her wand absently in her hand. 

Walking a few more steps forward, Snape brought his hand to his face taking the metal Death Eater mask off. He allowed it to fall to the floor with a resonating crash. Hermione jumped at the sound, masking a small shriek of surprise before turning to face him. Ron Weasley tensed under Rowle’s hold at the sight of Dumbledore’s murderer. The Boy Who Lived, however, did not show any kind of restraint. Harry’s eyes went wide with anger. Yelling a string of obscenities, Harry started to struggle against Carrow’s hold. In two steps, Snape was directly in front of Harry, wand pointed squarely between his eyes. A wickedly sinister smile crossed his face before he spoke. “As entertaining as your theatrics are, Potter, I am in no mood to deal with you.” To make sure his point was made, Snape dug the tip of his wand between Harry’s eyes. That would certainly leave a bruise. Harry’s face twisted in disgust when he heard the older wizard’s threat. Snape raised an eyebrow at the boy’s expression, jabbing his wand a little harder into his face at each word. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” 

Rather than answer, Harry lunged forward abruptly and spat in the dark man’s face. The room went deathly silent as everyone watched the exchange. Hermione subconsciously brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Harry continued to jerk under Carrow’s hold. “HE TRUSTED YOU, YOU BASTARD! YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A SPINELESS TRAITOR! YOU ARE A FILTHY COWARD!” 

Snape’s usually pallid complexion flared bright red as he brought the back of his free hand to clear Potter’s saliva from his face. His lips tightened into a thin line before allowing an ear-splitting scream to rip from them. Forgetting his wand entirely, Snape grabbed Potter by the front of his jacket and abruptly out of Carrow’s hands. Throwing the boy up against the stone wall, Snape lifted him off the ground by his neck. They were nose to nose before Snape finally began to speak. 

“Disrespect me in such a manner again, boy, and I will personally see to your death.” Snape tightened his hands around Potter’s neck, pleased to see the bluish hue that was already coming to his lips. “The Dark Lord may have marked you as his but I will not give you the luxury of being killed quickly by his hand. You will beg for death if you behave that way again.” Snape released his hands from Harry’s neck and turned around in a fluid motion before the boy fell to an unconscious heap on the floor. 

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, save Severus Snape, The Boy Who Lived was now in possession of a time-activated Portkey.

***** 

Hermione was paralyzed with fear as she watched the events unfold between her best friend and their former Potions professor. How was this man, this Death Eater, the same person who promised to help her minutes before? She moved her eyes over to Ron. He was about to lose it completely. Ron’s entire body shook with such ferocity that Rowle was having trouble holding on to him. A thin film of sweat covered his forehead, causing his hair become a fiery, disheveled mess. He averted his eyes to Hermione, then to the back of Snape’s body. Before Hermione had time to process what was happening, Ron escaped his captor’s grasp and flung himself at Snape when he turned to look at the commotion.

It felt like he had been run over by a bloody Hippogriff when the redheaded menace landed on top of him. Gasping for the air that had just been forced from his lungs, Snape extended his arms in an attempt to fend off Weasley. Somehow, Ron had managed to pin the Death Eater to the floor. Ron’s hands were clenched around Snape’s throat, cutting of his air supply. Snape was still gasping for air, his sallow face turning a light shade of blue, when the most terrifying scream erupted behind him. Having been hit with Bella’s silent Cruciatus Curse, Hermione Granger was on the ground, writhing and screaming like the life within her was being ripped into a million tiny pieces. Ron whipped around, loosening his grip instinctively. Severus seized the opportunity to grab Weasley by the hair and slam his head into the floor. He was out cold.

Staggering to his feet, Snape pointed his wand toward the screaming girl who lay convulsing on the floor. “Finite.” He continued to watch Hermione as her screams eventually eroded into quiet sobs. She finally curled into herself and lay there. Turning to Bellatrix, he pinched the bridge of his nose and began to speak, “As much as I appreciate your assistance with the redheaded imbecile, Bella, you could have found a much quieter method.” He narrowed his eyes before continuing, “We cannot get any information from the girl if you torture her out of her right mind from the start.” 

Bellatrix’s maniacal smile morphed into a scowl at his comment. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are going soft Severus.” She sauntered closer to him, holding her wand at her temple. “Then again,” she said, smiling slightly, “You have always had a spot for Mudbloods, haven’t you?” 

Snape stiffened at her malice and tightened his hand around his wand. “How easily you forget your place, witch.” he warned, taking a step toward her. His voice was dangerously low as he spoke. “You know nothing of me, Bellatrix. Absolutely nothing!” 

The anger radiating off Severus was paramount. The air around him crackled and popped as his magic sought release. He took another step toward the black haired woman. This time she took a step back. “The Dark Lord may favor you, and for reasons I cannot fathom, might I add, but you are becoming increasingly difficult for me to tolerate.” She took another step back when he raised his wand to her throat. “I will catch you with your back turned, and when you are off your guard, I will silence you, Bellatrix.” 

“How dare you threaten me Snape!” Bellatrix shrieked. “The Dark Lord will hear of this disloyalty, th-this travesty! He will have your greasy h…” Before she could finish, Snape cast a Full Body-Bind on her, watching with a smirk, as she fell backwards. 

As she lay motionless on the floor, Snape casually leaned down to her ear. “Bella, you know full well that I waste no time with threats.”

Sensing the mounting tension, Lucius stood to speak. “Severus, I believe that is quite enough. You have made your point, my friend.” Pointing his wand at his incapacitated sister-in-law, he released her from the curse. Before she could speak, Lucius gave her direction. “Bella, it would be in your best interest to have a seat next to Narcissa. We have wasted enough time already.”

Bellatrix’s eyes never left Snape as she angrily got to her feet and started for the chair. Before she sat down, however, she stopped in front of Ron who was still passed out on the floor. “Still breathing, I see,” she said nudging him in the stomach with her pointed boot. Bellatrix looked down at him with such profound hatred. “Such a waste of pure magic.” she seethed. Without warning, a feral scream burst from her lips as she brought her foot up to kick him sharply in the face. Pleased with the blood that started oozing from his mouth and nose; she strode to her chair and plopped down on the worn leather with a huff.

***** 

Severus Snape was having a fucking lousy night and he was sure it was about to get much worse. Normally, when victims were brought here for questioning, Snape would slip quietly to the back of the room, let the others have their fun, then clean up the mess they left behind. He knew that wasn’t going to be the case this time. If the three Gryffindors were to escape mostly unscathed, he would have to take control of the situation before it was too late. Throwing his new found authority around wouldn’t be an issue, but it was rather unpleasant to be in charge of such things. After he killed Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower, the Dark Lord rewarded him for his ‘leadership.’ Severus was given authority over the Death Eaters when the Dark Lord wasn’t present. His advancement in the inner circle had been met with animosity from nearly everyone, but they all, with the exception of Bellatrix, kept their opinions to themselves and did as they were told. Studying the other Death Eaters in the room, Snape began to formulate a plan to save his students.

Harry bloody Potter was always the first priority. Before his death, Dumbledore had made it clear that the boy’s life was more important than those of his friends. _‘Should the situation arise Severus, and I assure you it will,’_ he would say, _‘Harry’s survival trumps that of his friends._ ’ Snape hated when the old, manipulative man cast the lives of everyone, his included, to the side for that of Potter’s. Even though he acted as if he couldn’t have cared less about them when they were safe at Hogwarts, Snape reviled the idea of abandoning any of his students to such a fate.

Having learned of the proposed ambush hours before, Snape had created a small, unauthorized Portkey to give them. Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy, in his attempt to gain the upper hand in his own house, had the three of them separated upon their arrival to the Manor. Knowing full well the chances of getting all three of them out alive was slim; he reluctantly followed the orders given to him by Dumbledore. Snape had managed to place the small Portkey, disguised as a Muggle paperclip, in Potter’s jacket pocket during their altercation. If his calculations were correct, the boy would vanish safely, in about twenty minute’s time, to the Forest of Dean without a trace. Snape grimaced inwardly at that thought. He had twenty minutes to get the three of them together. 

Clearing his throat, Snape turned to face Amycus Carrow and Thorfinn Rowle. The two burly wizards straitened in an attempt to redeem themselves. “The two of you call yourself Death Eaters,” Snape spat, his voice oozing with disgust. “Yet you cannot do one simple task given to you! Such insolence is punishable, as you know, but I shall let the Dark Lord decided what to do with you when he arrives. ” Carrow and Rowle turned their eyes to the floor as a sign of respect. “Since the two of you have proven yourself incompetent at containing children, I suggest you tie them up after you revive them. If you can manage, of course.” The two men nodded quickly, then started walking toward the boys who lay motionless on the floor. 

Severus spun around to look at the girl who was still curled up on her side. She lay perfectly still. If he hadn’t been watching her closely, he wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was breathing. He casually walked over to her and prodded her with the toe of his worn, dragon hide boot. She flinched at the contact but did not turn to look up at him. “Come now, Miss Granger. I expected you to be more cooperative.” He nudged her again with his boot. Just as before, he was given the same response. “Have it your way, girl,” he said coldly, “Levicorpus.” In an abrupt movement, Hermione Granger was hoisted in the air by her ankle, her hair falling back toward the floor. As laughter echoed throughout the room, Snape strode around the girl’s suspended body so he could see her face. He half expected her to have a frown set firmly in place, but, in truth, her expression was not what he had anticipated at all. She looked completely distraught, but she never made a sound, hanging there with tears streaming down her face. Snape gripped her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him as he spoke. “I will make myself perfectly clear just this once, Miss Granger. You will tell us what you know or you will suffer. Your life means little to the Dark Lord, and in turn, little to me. If you resist, you will just prolong your fate and waste my precious time. Do us all a favor- do not try to be the hero. Do not make this last longer than it has too.” 

Hermione Granger’s lip quivered as she let his words sink in. “Professor Snape, Sir,” she began, quietly but with dignity, “I am sorry but I cannot tell you anything.” 

He immediately released the girl at her statement. “So be it, Granger. You have chosen your fate.” Snape was relieved that the girl had shown such incredible resolve, but that relief turned almost immediately to dread when he realized that he had to continue playing his role in order to avoid suspicion. Snape slowly raised his wand and muttered the Unforgivable Curse. “Crucio.”

* * *

**Authors Notes:**

I have taken a bit of liberty with Portkeys in this chapter. According to Rowling, there are two different types of Portkeys; touch-activated Portkeys and time-activated Portkeys. For the purpose of this story, the Portkey given to Harry Potter by Snape is designed to work when simply placed on someone’s person. Furthermore, the Portkey has the ability to transport anyone touching the person who has the object. Think of it as side-along Apparition with the help of an object. 

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Happy reading!


	5. Playing the Part

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Playing the Part

_Acting is happy agony. --Jean-Paul Sartre_  


Hermione’s muscles tensed as she heard the curse leave the lips of her former professor. She braced for more of the excruciating pain she had felt at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. She felt her skin burn white hot. She pressed her lips together as tightly as she could, anticipating the worst pain she had ever felt, but determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream in pain. In an instant, however, the pain subsided. The burning sensation was replaced by a familiar voice resonating through her thoughts.

 _“Ah, I see the Felix Felicis is working superbly. Not surprising. However, Miss Granger, I must ask you to put your foolish pride aside and scream a little. A great deal of thrashing wouldn’t hurt either. You see, we must keep up appearances.”_ Hermione had seen the Cruciatus Curse preformed several times. She had seen the bodies of its victims contort into grotesquely unnatural shapes and had heard blood-curdling screams of agony come from its victims’ lips. She tried her best to imitate the screams and movements she had seen the Cruciatus victims produce. She could vaguely hear the Death Eaters hurling insults at her and laughing wildly. 

Severus watched, taken aback, as the girl dangling in midair put on the most spectacular display he had ever seen. Hermione’s back was arched to a sickening degree as she convulsed violently. When her eyes weren’t closed, they had rolled back into her skull, giving her the appearance of someone truly possessed. Her hands were twisted in the roots of her hair and with each vicious twitch, she yanked at the knotted, brown tresses forcefully. If the girl's actions weren’t convincing enough of her torment, her screams of presumed agony would eliminate all doubt. Her shrill cries echoed throughout the stone room, causing the fine hairs to stand on the back of Snape’s neck. In the midst of her shining performance, she heard her professor speak to her once again.

 _“Still going above and beyond what is required of you, I see.”_ Hermione thought for a moment that she had actually heard a faint chuckle. _“At any rate, Miss Granger, I need for you to cease your play-act. We can’t torture you out of your brilliant mind just yet. When I say the word,”_ he warned, _“be ready.”_ Condescendingly, Severus flicked his wand at the suspended girl as he spoke the incantation. “Finite.”

Hermione was relieved when she heard Snape say the counter-spell. Putting on such a display had taken a tremendous amount of effort. She slowly allowed her tensed body to relax until she was finally hanging in the air like a ragdoll. She brought her hands to her face and sobbed uncontrollably into her palms from the mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline she felt coursing through her body. 

Scoffing at her weakness, Snape silently flicked his wand at her again. Hermione instantly felt herself falling back to the ground and thrust her hands down in an attempt to brace herself. She wasn’t fast enough. She smacked face first into the hard, stone floor. Immediately, blood began to spill from her broken nose, forming crimson pool into the crevice between two stone tiles. Hermione cried out in agony as her shaking hands attempted to stifle the bleeding. She was vaguely aware of her professor as he spoke to her once more; this time to her directly, instead of in her thoughts.

“I’ll ask you again, you stupid fool.” Snape paused to look around the room at his supposed confidants. They were buying into the façade; enjoying every second of her torment. Even Narcissa, who hated being present when the dirty business was conducted, looked to be completely engrossed with the events taking place. Turning his attention back to the broken girl lying on the floor, Snape began to speak. “What are the three of you looking for?” She didn’t answer. Snape took two steps over to the girl and stood, towering over her. “ANSWER ME!” he snarled. 

Hermione jumped at his tone and shook her head quickly. “I…I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said through quiet sobs. “W-we aren’t looking for anything.”

“Don’t lie to me! We have tracked the three of you across England and Scotland. You are always on the move, and your destinations are erratic.” Again, the girl merely whimpered at his statement, but offered no information. Snape pointed his wand in her direction and began to speak very quietly. “One more chance. What. Are. You. Looking. For?” 

Hermione felt her Potions professor enter her mind once again. That particular sensation coupled with her already disoriented state, and the stench of her own blood, caused her to retch. _“I know you are in considerable pain, but it is time for you to play your part,”_ he said softly. _“You are nearly there, Miss Granger.”_ Stunned by the soft tone of his voice, she rolled over onto her back to look up at him. The very sight of her was almost his undoing. The fall had not only broken her nose, but the jagged edges of the stone tiles had produced a deep laceration across the bridge of her nose. She had lost a considerable amount of blood from her injury, causing her to pale slightly. The blood that she had lost was smeared down her front and all over the floor. He was suddenly hit with the realization that the small dose of Felix Felicis was already beginning to wear off. 

“Professor, please! Please, I know nothing,” she sobbed. “We are not looking for anything. I swear to you!” 

Snape tightened his hand around his wand as he spoke the Unforgivable. “Crucio.”

Just like before, Hermione began to scream and convulse in agony. This time, however, she truly felt some of the pain. She had realized the second she hit the floor that the Felix Felicis was already wearing off. Had she still been under the complete effects, her injury wouldn’t have been nearly as extensive. She wouldn’t be able to feel the uncomfortable pricking of her skin, or the slight tensing of her muscles caused by the Cruciatus Curse. She waited for what seemed like twenty lifetimes before she heard him utter the Counter-spell.

Hermione slowly ended her tremors and eventually lay, unmoving, on the floor. She winced as she turned her head slightly, allowing her cheek to rest on the cold, blood covered stone. This position had put her directly in view of her two helpless friends in the corner of the room. As Hermione’s eyes adjusted through her salty tears, she was able to see them more clearly. Carrow and Rowle had outdone themselves this time. Ron and Harry were sitting on the floor back to back with a thick, black rope wound tightly around their torsos. The rope looked to be charmed to tighten if they tried to struggle or escape. The blood trickling down Ron’s bare arm was evidence of this. The boys had obviously been placed under a Silencing Charm because their mouths were moving rapidly but produced no sound. Hermione was secretly grateful for this because she was certain her friends would have said whatever was necessary to ease her suffering. The two of them never thought through situations like this. What did they think would happen once they told Voldemort’s supporters they were searching for pieces of their Lord’s soul to destroy? The boys didn’t realize once their secrets were revealed there would be no reason for the Death Eaters to keep them alive. She let out a ragged breath. She was so tired of holding everything together. She was so tired of running. She was just so tired of it all.

***** 

Severus shook his head slowly, looking down at the girl. He had failed her and he knew it. He had promised to get her out of this mess and he had singlehandedly caused all of her torment. He had given her no reason to trust him based on his actions, yet she still did as she was asked without question. The young Gryffindor woman had always shown him the utmost respect while he was at Hogwarts and had constantly defended his honor when other students painted him in a negative light. Thinking of her in that respect reminded him of Lily Evans. Throughout his adolescence, Lily had always defended him until the day their friendship ended during their fifth year at Hogwarts. He had failed Lily miserably and had spent the better part of his life trying to make up for his mistakes. He would be damned if he allowed the same thing to happen to the already damaged girl lying on the floor. Even though Hermione Granger was stronger than she appeared, he could tell she was beginning to slowly crack under the pressure. Snape bent down, dropping a black clad knee on the floor beside her head. She never flinched. He put the tip of his wand under her cheek, turning her head so he could see her eyes. The instant his black eyes met her brown ones, he was in her head.

 _‘Don’t you dare give up, Granger,”_ he said sternly. At his statement, she attempted to break the unwanted invasion by averting her gaze. Scoffing, Snape caught her chin in his hand, forcing her to keep looking at him. _‘You have come too far to be slaughtered on this filthy floor. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. In order for me to do that, you need to keep up this little charade. Ready yourself. I have no doubt you will feel the effects more strongly.’_ He dropped his hand from her face and cast a Scouring Charm to remove her blood from his fingers before he stood. He ran his freshly cleaned hand through his black hair as a sign of frustration, before he turned his attention back to his victim. 

“Are you enjoying this?” Snape asked her in a rather disgruntled voice. “Do you enjoy the feeling of my curse coursing through your veins?” 

“No,” she said softly, as to not strain her already tender throat. 

“Pardon, Miss. Granger,” he said with a raised brow. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.” 

Hermione’s breathing was becoming labored as she processed his snide remark. She knew he had heard her just as well. How dare he play with her like this! One minute he was reassuring the next he was a blatant bastard. Hermione knew he had a role to play, but she was starting to wonder if she was imagining the one-sided conversations taking place in her thoughts. Perhaps she was still trying to subconsciously place her Death Eater professor, who she respected and trusted, in a positive light. Then again, the Cruciatus Cruse had been known to mentally break far more capable witches and wizards than she. Annoyed, Hermione braced herself with her elbow and began to make her way to a sitting position. Several Death Eaters began shouting insults at her weak attempt of strength. When she had managed to finally bring herself upright, she looked up into her professor’s face, her eyes narrowed in defiance. If he wanted her to play along, she was going to give him a reason to curse the daylight out of her. 

“I said ‘N-O’ Professor. NO.” Hermione raised her chin a bit higher when a scowl appeared across his face. “NO, I do not enjoy your curse ‘coursing through my veins,’ but I’ll endure it until I go mad or die, whichever comes first, because I will never tell you anything. “

“Trying to be the martyr, I see,” Snape said with a laugh. “Surely, you don’t think you actually have a say in what happens to you?”

"I’m not trying to be a martyr,” She said matter-of-factly. “I just refuse to be a traitor...like you.”

“A traitor like me?” Snape asked sarcastically. “Miss Granger, I would much rather be a traitor, than a lousy Mudblood who doesn’t understand her place in this world.”

“At least I can look at myself in the mirror – something that I would think to be impossible for a coward like you.”

The smug expression on Snape’s face vanished as he her comment settled deep in his core. “I am NOT a coward!” he bellowed; voice dripping with venom. “By the time I am finished with you, you will beg for me to end your miserable existence. You will take the coward’s leave from this world, Miss Granger, not me.” 

Hermione never heard Snape say the Unforgivable Curse, but she felt it take hold of her body unrelentingly. He was right. She did feel the effects of the curse more than before and she hated him for it. Hermione collapsed to her side and let the Curse crash over her like a white-hot tidal wave. Her broken nose made it that much more painful to scream but she had no choice. The pain was unlike anything she had ever anticipated. Bellatrix’s curse had caught her completely off guard but the pain seemed to have been dulled considerably. It was certainly nothing compared to what she was feeling now. Her muscles were tensed agonizingly tight and it felt like her entire body from the inside out was slowly being burnt to a crisp. 

The pain was so intense that Hermione began to black out. She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness, welcoming the numbness that was beginning to dull the pain. Suddenly, she was shocked back into reality by a loud snap, like the cracking of a whip. Although her thoughts were clouded due to the intense torture she had just endured she knew that the sound had been created by someone Apparating into the room. Hermione noticed that the room had gone silent. The laughs and jeers of the Death Eaters had stopped. She opened her eyes and saw that Snape had taken a knee, his head bowed in submission. Only one person could have elicited this response from this group. As she turned her head and processed what she was seeing, she let out an involuntary gasp. Standing there, looking down her with visible contempt, was the most evil and most frightening wizard in the world – Voldemort.

“I see you have started without me, Severus,” the Dark Lord said flatly as he surveyed the room. 

“My Lord, forgive me,” Snape said, never raising his head. “We hoped to gather information from the Mudblood and the Blood Traitor before you arrived. We did not wish to waste your time dealing with the Undesirables. ”

Lord Voldemort looked down at his most valued spy and loyal Death Eater. A faint chuckle rose from his throat as he addressed Snape. “Rise, Severus. There is no need to act contrite.”

Snape allowed himself to steal a quick glance in Hermione’s direction before he made his way to his feet. She was lying flush against the blood stained stone. Her breathing was shallow as she tried to divert any unwanted attention from herself. She wasn’t having any success. Her frail body was still fighting the uncontrollable spasms caused by his Cruciatus Curse. He swore at himself for putting so much force behind the Unforgivable. The girl had struck a nerve when she called him a coward and he had retaliated without thinking. He had to start thinking because he was walking a very thin line right now and one wrong move in either direction could be disastrous. Unfortunately, that invisible line had gotten considerably thinner when the Dark Lord arrived ten minutes earlier than expected. 

The bastard was hardly ever on time when these meetings took place and he was certainly never early. Snape had to work quickly if he was to make it out of this situation alive. In five minutes, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley would be transported to a safe location, leaving behind the brains of their entire operation, all in the presence of the Dark Lord.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

Happy reading, and as always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated! The next chapter will be posted later this coming week.


	6. Consequences

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_Consequences_

_Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices.-- Alfred A. Montapert_  


“It grieves me to have missed your interrogation, Severus,” Voldemort said as he studied the Mudblood lying at his feet. “It is a rare occurrence to see you take charge of such things. I am pleased to see you are finally accepting your place among those most loyal to me.”

“Hermione Granger was a student of mine,” Snape said warily. “She has been a thorn in my side from the moment I met her. I thought it would only be fitting, my Lord, that I be the one to acquire any information she may have.”

Before he had finished speaking, Snape felt the Dark Lord barge into his mind. Voldemort was looking for memories of Hermione Granger during Severus’s tenure at Hogwarts. Being a practiced Occlumens, he was able to conjure false but unpleasant memories of the girl in order to satisfy him. Voldemort seemed to focus around one particular memory. The modified memory was set during Hermione’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Snape had finally been given the Defenses Against the Dark Arts position and the first class of the new term was filled with Slytherin and Gryffindor students. The first lesson of the term encompassed casting Nonverbal Spells. As always, Hermione Granger was the only pupil who showed any promise. Snape had selected her from the group of students to face him for a demonstration. She was to fend off his attack and ultimately disarm him.  
 _  
“Miss Granger, your goal is to take my wand before I strip you of yours,” Snape said. “You may not utter a word but do what you must to gain the upper hand because I will show you no mercy.”_

_Hermione shook her head in understanding, as she stood and made her way to the front of the classroom. She had expected him to warn her before he began his assault and quickly realized her mistake when he sent the first silent hex barreling toward her. She ducked behind an unused desk in front of the room just before the hex hit the stone wall behind her, sending dust and bits of rock raining down on her._

_“Fight back!” Snape called to her. “Face me, Granger!”_

_Hermione shook her nerves off and peeked around the corner of the desk. She could see the concerned faces of her classmates. She was surprised to see that some of the Slytherin students looked wary of her current predicament. Craning her neck even further, she tried to spot her professor but he was nowhere to be seen. The instant she reached up to grasp the top of the desk for support it vanished completely. She lost her balance and fell forward onto her hands and knees._

_“No hiding allowed, silly girl,” Snape smirked from across the room. “Surely a student of your caliber can complete a task as simple as this?”_

_Before he could blink, Hermione was on her feet and had sent a Disarming Spell hurling at him. Snape blocked it, lazily, with a flick of his wand and sent it back at her. Hermione had no time to cast a Shield Charm and was knocked to the ground when the Spell hit her in the middle of the chest._

_“COME ON, GIRL!” Snape yelled at her in frustration._

_Hermione rolled to her stomach and glared at her professor. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, with a scowl set firmly in place on his face. Suddenly an abrupt movement behind him caught her attention. Ron and Dean Thomas were trying to hold Harry in his seat. The fact that he viewed her as some sort of damsel in distress infuriated her. She needed no one to come to her rescue. A new burst of adrenaline rushed through her body and she shot up off the floor._

_“HARRY POTTER! I do not need you to fight my battles for me!” she screamed. Snape turned to see Potter sit down in his chair, outwardly pleased when his face turned a sickly shade of green._

_“Are you sure about that Miss Granger?” Snape sneered. “You are doing a piss-poor job by yourself!” As soon as he insulted her, Snape could feel the air in the classroom crackle with her pent-up magic. Hermione Granger had more fight in her that he had anticipated. When fueled by anger, she was a force to be reckoned with._

_With little effort, Snape sent a curse in her direction. She blocked it, sending it rebounding between the rows of desks occupied by her classmates. She shrieked in frustration and lunged forward, sending a string of nonverbal curses and hexes toward him. He blocked every single one and sent his own spells back at her in retaliation. Their duel lasted for nearly five minutes before Snape finally cracked her defenses. He successfully cast a Disarming Spell and watched, satisfied, as her wand flew from her hand into his._

_“What a despicable display!” he said triumphantly. “You hardly deserve the right to step foot in my classroom if that is all you are capable of doing.”_

_Hermione was covered with sweat and her body trembled slightly. Snape couldn’t determine if it was due to their demonstration or the comment he had just made about her performance. Abruptly, she doubled over, bringing her hands together to form a tight ball. He watched, confused, as she slowly pulled her fingers apart, revealing a glowing ball of energy cradled in her palm. Snape had heard of very few witches and wizards who could manifest their magic outside their bodies but he had never witnessed it for himself. He watched as Hermione carefully move her hands further and further away from each other. As she did, the illuminated sphere grew in size. When it was roughly the size of a Bludger, she looked up at her Professor. Smiling at him slightly, she thrust her hands in his direction, sending the glowing ball of energy heading straight for him._

_The silent Shield Charm he cast was no match for the sheer amount of raw magic that hit it. He half expected to be sent hurtling backwards but the magic seemed to be drawn toward the wands he was holding in each hand. He felt his hold of the wands weakening and without warning, Hermione’s wand, as well as his own, flew from his grasp and clattered to the ground between the two of them. The room was filled with muffled gasps and whispers. Snape couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. A sixth year student, who had just put up a decent fight, had just nonverbally disarmed him, all without the aid of a wand. He had clearly underestimated her and she bested him in front of a room full of people. Looking at the winded girl across the room, he schooled his expression. He had to put her back in her place._

_“QUIET!” Snape bellowed. The darkened Defense classroom room went silent straight away._

_“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for your unmerited attack on my person,” Snape seethed._

_“Professor, I hardly think that is fair! You told me to disarm you and I did. I did what you asked me to do!” Hermione retorted hotly, still trying to catch her breath._

_“Twenty more points for questioning my authority!” he spat. “I told you to disarm me before I took your wand from you. In case you failed to notice, your wand was in my possession.”_

_She couldn’t believe she was hearing him correctly. She had just performed magic most seasoned witches and wizards could only dream of and he had taken seventy house points from her for it. Tears of embarrassment and anger began to cloud her vision. She would not let him see her cry. “Such an arse,” she muttered under her breath._

_“What did you just call me?” he warned._

_Hermione chewed her lip nervously. She had just made a big mistake. “I…I... Nothing Professor Snape.”_

_“GET OUT, you ungrateful little swot,” Snape said coldly, kicking her wand toward her. “I’ll not have you disrespecting me and undermining my authority in my own classroom! Unless I change my mind, you will not set foot in this class again.”_

*****

“Ah…I see,” the Dark Lord said with a chuckle as he pulled from Snape’s thoughts. “Revenge is a precious thing, is it not? The Mudblood made you look like a fool now it is your turn to inflict it upon her.”

“I feel it is my reward to make the remainder of her life as unpleasant as possible. I can assure you it has been most unfortunate to have to endure her insufferable attitude for the last six and a half years.”

“I will not deny you what is rightfully yours for the taking. You may do with her whatever you desire, but she will die this night as a testament to all who still refuse me. ” 

“Thank you, my Lord. I will not disappoint you,” Snape said with a bow. 

Pleased with the change of events, the Dark Lord turned to face the silent Death Eaters in the room. “My friends, we are at the cusp of victory. Harry Potter is mine for the taking. After tonight, when the Boy Who Lived draws his last breath, the Wizarding world will finally be ready for cleansing. The Pure Blood lines will rise up once again.” The Death Eaters nodded their heads in agreement. In the blink of an eye, however, the Dark Lord’s manner changed entirely. “Before we can proceed, something of great consequence must be addressed. Though none of you show any outward signs of acrimony toward Severus, this room reeks of disloyalty and doubt. I can sense your bitterness and it disappoints me greatly.” Voldemort regarded each of them carefully before he spoke again. “WELL? What have you to say for yourselves?” 

Bellatrix stood up slowly. “M-my Lord, I think I speak for all of us when I say Snape has proven himself as one of us.” 

“You knowingly lie to me, Bella?” 

The black-haired witch dropped to her knees. “No I would never, my Lord!” she pleaded. “Snape has demonstrated himself a valuable asset to our... to your cause.” 

“I cannot have a riff among those loyal to me!” the Dark Lord said callously. “Do you understand this? It will damage everything we have accomplished.”

Bella shook her head in agreement. “I understand you perfectly, my Lord.”

“May this serve as a warning to you all, especially you, my dear Bella,” he said, caressing her wild, curly black mane. “Without all of Severus’s efforts we would not have the advantage we have now. Anyone who shows him disrespect is, by extension, showing me disrespect. If he does not punish you, I certainly will.” 

Voldemort looked back at Snape and nodded. Severus understood the Dark Lord’s meaning and bowed his head in return. The Dark Lord expected to him to finish the girl.

***** 

Snape’s mind raced for a solution. There was no way to fool the Dark Lord. He would have to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Granger again. She may not survive another round, he thought to himself. Severus circled the girl slowly and deliberately, trying to plan his next move. The other Death Eaters were growing restless.

“Come on, Snape,” Dolohov had taunted, “let one of us have a go with the Mudblood!”

Severus shot him a quick glance and then turned his gaze to Voldemort, who was smiling with twisted anticipation of hearing the Mudblood’s screams. Over Voldemort’s shoulder, Severus noticed Potter and Weasley struggling against their restraints. Potter and Weasley! Severus had forgotten all about them. How could he have been so stupid? The Portkey in Potter’s pocket would activate at any second. For someone who was so precise and calculated, Severus had managed to put himself in an inescapable predicament. He had to distract the Dark Lord from Potter and Weasley. The only way to do so was to get the Dark Lord to focus on Granger. He couldn’t torture her anymore. If she didn’t die, she would at least be driven irreversibly mad. Then, it came to him. The thing they wanted to see as much as pain was humiliation. 

He circled her again. “Stand up, Granger,” he barked. Hermione shakily rose to her feet. The girl trembled with fear. Immediately, he thrust the back of his hand across her face, knocking her back to the ground. “I said stand up, filth.” Tears rolled down her face as she struggled to stand again, eliciting jeers and laughs from the Death Eaters. Severus knew he had to up the ante. Suddenly, he realized that the girl was wearing Muggle clothes. The idea was disgusting, but he had to keep their focus on the girl for as long as possible. “I see you have worn all the trappings of your filthy blood status, Miss Granger. Let me rectify that for you.” Without another word, Severus grabbed the collar of Hermione’s shirt and ripped it from top to bottom, exposing her flesh that was, by now, covered with cuts and bruises. Hermione instinctively tried to cover herself. “Oh, I should think not, Miss Granger,” Snape hissed as he wrenched her arms behind her back. Severus stood holding the girl’s arms, trying to calculate his next move when a loud shriek came from the corner. Everyone turned to face the source of the sound.

“My Lord, Potter and the Blood Traitor have disappeared!” Bellatrix shouted. Suddenly, a loud hum of whispers and gasps rose from the crowd of Death Eaters.

Voldemort’s expression turned to one of rage as he looked at the spot Potter and Weasley had occupied moments prior. “You imbeciles! Did none of you think to search them before you brought them here?” 

Rodolphus Lestrange was the first to come forward. “My Lord, I took their wands myself.” The Death Eater kneeled before his master, bringing the Golden Trio’s wands from his robe pocket. “They had nothing else with them when Bella brought them here.” 

“Rodolphus, do you take me for some sort of fool?”

“No, my Lord,” Lestrange said slightly confused, “I do not think you are a fool. All precautions were taken, my Lord. They just…disappeared.” 

“SILENCE!” Voldemort roared. “I will get to the bottom of this myself!”

Voldemort turned his attention to Hermione, who was still being restrained by Snape. “Foolish girl, perhaps you can tell me where your friends have gone?” 

When Snape entered Hermione’s mind it wasn’t painful, just slightly uncomfortable. The Dark Lord, however, did not show any kind of mercy. Unlike her professor who gently moved the layers of her mind apart, the Dark Lord ripped through Hermione’s thoughts and memories like sheets of parchment. She tried to clear her mind as best she could but she was no match for Voldemort. She was made to relive the events of the past thirty minutes again and again. Voldemort saw the interaction in the corridor between Hermione and Severus. He witnessed with his own eyes Snape giving the potions to Hermione and warn her of the agonizing pain in her future. Most damning, though, was something that the Dark Lord was sure the ignorant Mudblood had not even noticed. There before his very eyes, he saw one of his most loyal servants slip something into Harry Potter’s pocket. That had to be how Potter had escaped. It was then that he realized he had been deceived. Snape had played him for a fool. He could not let this act of treason go unpunished. 

When Voldemort emerged from Hermione’s thoughts, he wasted no time dealing with the traitor. The Cruciatus Curse hit Severus like a ton of bricks. He crumpled to the floor, taking Hermione with him. Snape writhed in pain, nearly crushing Hermione’s small frame beneath his weight. Hermione covered her ears, trying to block out his screams so that she could figure out some way to get them out of there. If not for the Anti-Disapparation Jinx, she could have just Disapparated the two of them out. Then it hit her, they _could_ Disapparate. Snape had the Dark Mark. As long as she could keep a firm grip on him, and touch the Mark, she should be able to get them out of Malfoy Manor. The main obstacle to this plan was the severe thrashing about that Snape was doing under the Cruciatus Curse. If she was going to be able to escape, she had to be able to get him to hold still. Then, she did the most reckless, ill-advised thing she had ever done. Drawing the wand from her jumper, she pointed it at the Dark Lord and shouted, “Reducto!” 

Immediately, Snape was motionless and Voldemort crashed into the stone wall with a thud. “You filthy Mudblood!” Bellatrix shrieked, as she trained her wand on Hermione. Adrenaline surged through Hermione’s veins as she moved faster than she ever had before. She rolled up the sleeve of Snape’s cloak and touched her wand to the Dark Mark on his forearm. In an instant, Snape felt the pull behind his midsection and, with a crack, they were gone.

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Happy reading!


	7. Tales of Truth

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Tales of Truth**

_In wartime, truth is so precious that she should always be attended by a bodyguard of lies.—Winston Churchill._   


Snape landed on his back in a dark, unfamiliar location. What wind he had in his body had been knocked from it, rather forcefully, when he landed. Carefully, he flexed each muscle in his body, searching for any injures he may have sustained. Satisfied he was alright, Severus made his way to a sitting position. The unexpected Disapparition from Malfoy Manor had made him nauseous and unsettled. Of course, the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus Curse didn’t help matters either. Slowly, the events of the last few minutes came crashing down on him. His long, white fingers rubbed at his eyes roughly; an unsuccessful attempt to wake himself from this hellish nightmare. He had a lot of explaining to do when he met with the Dark Lord again. Shaking that thought from his mind, Snape looked around as his eyes adjusted to the dim room. He was in a cellar. By the looks of the various tools and trinkets piled up on shelves and the floor, the cellar was part of a Muggle home. Straining his vision further, he could see, to his immediate left, a darkened figure slumped against the wall. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the figure. “Lumos!”

The faint glow from the tip of his wand cast a pale light over the girl. Hermione Granger was unconscious but still breathing. How she had managed to successful Apparate the two of them without splinching was beyond him. He needed to wake her to tend to her wounds and to figure out where in the hell she had taken them. Snape scrambled to his feet quickly only to hit his head, hard, on a cobweb covered beam supporting the ceiling. Severus brought both hands to the top of his head, trying to ease the throbbing sensation plaguing his senses. He desperately needed something for the enormous headache he had. “Fucking Hell,” he roared, striking the wooden beam with his fist as if to teach it a lesson. He seriously doubted his life could get any more complicated than it already was. Stooping to avoid bashing his head on the blasted ceiling again, he made his way over to Hermione. 

He looked her over carefully, trying to determine the best way to approach her. He couldn’t very well have her hex him into oblivion if he startled her awake. He leaned down closer to her as he spoke. “Miss Granger?” Just as he expected, the girl offered no response. Snape grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her a bit. “Miss Granger.” Still nothing. He grabbed the wand lying by her side and slipped it into his pocket before standing. He had hoped to wake the girl without the use of magic. When he had revived her in Malfoy Manor she struggled against him. He wasn’t sure how she would behave when she awoke with his wand pointed at her head after everything that had happened. It is a necessary risk, he thought, as he pointed his wand at her head. “Rennervate.” 

Severus watched from the shadows as she stirred. Hermione was obviously addled and she had no idea there was someone else in the room with her. She tried to stand but thought otherwise when her legs began to quake. She would be dealing with the effects of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse for a while. Hermione let out an exasperated sigh as she ran her hand down her sleeve, then across the dusty floor.

Realizing what she was looking for, Snape finally spoke to her. “I assume you are looking for your wand?” 

Hermione, instinctively, pulled the two halves of her jumper together and zipped it quickly to conceal her exposed skin. She could barely make out the outline of someone standing in front of her. Her eyes had obviously not adjusted to the dim lighting and Snape could see that she was still struggling to figure out who was with her. “Show yourself!” 

Rolling his eyes at her request, he raised his hand above his head and tapped a blown light bulb with his wand. The bulb came to life, casting a warm glow around the room. 

“P-professor Snape?” Hermione asked, unsure if her eyes were working correctly.

“Obviously, you silly girl,” Snape said, shaking his head. 

He watched as Hermione tried to stand up again. She had managed to make it to her feet before she started to wobble. Severus was by her side in a second, supporting her by her elbow. “Do not strain yourself, Granger. Sit down and let me tend to you.”

“Don’t touch me!” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grasp. 

“Don’t be absurd.” Snape spat. “You are injured and need medical care. Let me help you.”

“I don’t trust you,” she said, backing up against the wall.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. She had every right to question his loyalty after what he had done to her, but this was neither the place nor time to do so. “I can assure you, Miss Granger, I am no threat to you,” he said dryly. 

Hermione stood a little taller, having found some confidence. “Prove it then.” 

“And just how do you expect me to do that?” Severus scoffed.

“Where have they gone? Ron and Harry?” she demanded. “I know you know something, Professor.”

Snape studied her through narrowed eyes. Even though she had been dragged through Hell and back at Malfoy Manor, Hermione Granger was still as impertinent as ever. If the whereabouts of her friends was all she desired, Snape knew he was getting off easy. He could heal her, send her on her way to the Forest of Dean, and move on with what he had to do. Sighing heavily, he finally spoke. “Very well, Miss Granger. If I tell you what you wish to know, will you allow me to assist you?”

Hermione’s breathing hitched as she heard him speak. She was apprehensive because there was a very real chance he would simply wave off her boldness and refuse to tell her anything at all. Relief flooded over her when he finally conceded. “Yes, that is a fair trade. Thank you, Sir.” 

She tried to take a step toward him but faltered on her feet. Once again, Snape was by her side, supporting her weight. Severus realized she wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere for an extended period of time. “You’ll get your balance back soon enough, Granger. In the meantime, I’ll have to carry you.” 

Hermione looked at him uneasily. Never in a million years had she anticipated being swept up in Snape’s arms and carried anywhere. She knew, however, that he was right. She could barely stand, much less walk. “Alright then,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

“We’ll need to go somewhere with better lighting if you expect me to do a decent job.”

“Of course. I’m not sure why we ended up in the cellar. There are stairs behind that door that lead up to the kitchen.” With that, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground, opened the door, and proceeded up the stairs.

“What is this place?” Snape finally asked when they reached the top of the landing. Hermione removed one of her arms from around his neck to flip on the light switch in front of them. The room filled with light, revealing a modest kitchen. “Am I correct when I assume this is a Muggle home?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. This was Grandmother Granger’s summer estate,” she said as he sat her down on the nearest kitchen chair. When Hermione looked up at him, she could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being in a home belonging to an unfamiliar Muggle. “Don’t worry, Professor,” she said in an attempt to appease him, “I own the property now. When I was younger, I used to spend the summer holiday here with my grandmother.” Hermione looked around the kitchen. “She knew how much I enjoyed it here, so she left it to me when she passed a few years ago.”

“Why did you choose this destination, of all places, to bring us?” Snape asked as he pulled out a chair to sit in front of her. “Surely you see the danger in your decision?”

“This is a safe house, much like Grimmauld Place. No one knows of its location except for me…and now you, of course.”

Snape looked slightly stunned as he understood her meaning. “You cast Fidelius Charm?”

“Yes I did, the summer before fifth year. When the Dark Lord returned I thought it was important to have a place to send Mum and Dad, should the need arise,” she said with a slight smile. “The charm may be complex but it was not difficult to cast.”

“Indeed,” Snape said curtly, turning his attention to her broken nose. “Now then, Miss Granger that is enough nattering from you. I’m going to need you to hold still.”

“Oh…of course. Forgive me, sir.” Hermione sat a little straighter in her chair, angling her body so she was directly facing him. 

Snape took her face in his hands and examined her wound more closely. “The cut is not as deep as it appears to be. Unfortunately, I do not have any Dittany or Murtlap Essence on my person, so you will most likely have a scar. I will try to make it as inconspicuous as I ca...”

“I have Essence of Dittany and a few other potions,” Hermione offered, interrupting him.

Snape watched through narrowed eyes as she bent down and pulled a small, purple bag from her boot. Hermione pulled the drawstring at the top to open it and thrust her arm down the bag up to her elbow. She looked up at her professor, noticing his raised eyebrow. “It is an Undetectable Extension Charm, Professor. It was the only way to carry everything we needed.” She continued rummaging around for a few more seconds before finally pulling a cloth sack from the handbag. She handed it to Snape, who opened it cautiously. Inside he found several phials containing Blood-Replenishing Potion and Calming Draught, one small bottle of Essence of Dittany, as well as the Antidote to Common Poisons and the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons.

“Miss Granger, where did you acquire all of these?” 

“I made them myself, sir.” 

“What of the Dittany?” he asked, holding the small bottle up to the ceiling light.

“The Dittany was a gift to Harry from Professor Dumbledore.”

“You’re sure of it?”

“I’m positive, sir.” 

Snape studied the various phials carefully. Giving her the potions she created herself made him anxious but, given the current situation, he had little choice in the matter. “Very well, then. First, you need to take one of the Blood-Replenishing Potions.” He handed her two opened phials, which she drank obediently. “The Calming Draught will also help with the effects of the Cruciatus. Miss Granger, I am going to clean the wound and then apply the Dittany,” he said in a tone that reminded her of a Potions lesson. “If I attempt to fix the fracture before healing the laceration, you could lose even more blood.” Hermione nodded in agreement and eased back into her chair as he began. 

The two of them sat in agreed silence while Snape worked meticulously to heal her. Hermione likened his focus to what she had witnessed multiple times during her Potions lessons. Snape had always paid careful attention to the subtle science of potion making and that habit obviously translated into other aspects of his life. As he took his time, Hermione was able to really look at him for the first time all night. 

The intricate Death Eater robes he wore made him appear even more rigid than usual. Snape was buttoned completely up to the neck and down to the wrist. Hermione secretly wondered how he was able to move so easily. His face, however, was much harder to see, as it was hidden behind a curtain of black hair. When she was able to catch the occasional glimpse, she was surprised at his expression. Snape’s brow was furrowed in concentration but he didn’t look angry or inconvenienced at all. Hermione decided he looked considerably younger when he didn’t have the familiar, dour look plastered across his face. Hermione studied her professor’s face intently. It occurred to her that when the scowl that she had grown so used to seeing was no longer fixed on his face, that he actually looked somewhat handsome. 

Snape seemed to become conscious of the girl’s gaze. “The wound has healed over,” he said abruptly as he looked at the reddened area. “It will remain uncomfortable for a few days, so take care not to disturb the area. Understood?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, comes the worst of it. We’re going to have to do something about this nose of yours.” Hermione winced as Snape lightly touched the bridge of her nose. “Yes, definitely broken. Well, Miss Granger, brace yourself, this will be painful.” Hermione watched nervously as Snape drew his wand from his sleeve and held it directly in front of her crooked nose. “Episky.”

An audible crunch sliced through the air as Hermione doubled over. A smirk appeared on Snape’s lips. “Come now, Miss Granger. For someone who just endured the Cruciatus Curse, that couldn’t have been _that_ bad.”

“Well it certainly didn’t feel good. Besides, that crack sure sounded like it should have been painful.” Hermione rubbed her nose gingerly. “I really appreciate your help, Professor, but I need to know where Harry and Ron are. You promised you’d tell me once you mended my wounds.”

“Miss Granger, you are in no shape to be traveling around looking for them. You need to stay here and rest until you have completely recovered.”

“With all due respect, Professor, there isn’t time. Harry, Ron, and I are on an important mission. It is crucial that we get back out there and continue it. Otherwise, we can never defeat the Dark Lord.”

Snape pondered the girl’s request. He had given his word that he would tell her the whereabouts of her companions, but he also knew that she would go looking for them the moment she learned where they were. As gifted a witch as she was, she would be easy prey for Death Eaters in her current condition. “If I tell you where they are, Miss Granger, you must give me your word that you will not do anything foolish, like going to look for them. You would be like a wounded deer going out among the wolves. They would find you, catch you, and kill you.”

“That is something I cannot promise you, Professor. They need me,” she said, pulling the purple bag from her boot once again. She then proceeded to wave it angrily in front of his face in an attempt to make a point. “I have everything!” 

Snape stood up from his chair, pushing it into the table roughly. He was starting to get agitated. He had placed himself in mortal danger for the three of them and she was about to throw it way on some fool mission destined for failure. Severus wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into her. 

“Be that as it may, you can’t traipse across the countryside trying to locate them.” Without notice, he grabbed her by the arm and forced her to stand. Just as he expected, she had to grab hold of the table to keep from falling over. “Look at you,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You can hardly stand. When was the last time you slept? When was the last time you ate? Can’t you understand, you are running yourself into the ground?”

Angry tears started to roll down Hermione’s face. He had no right to speak to her like this, even if what he was saying was totally accurate. It was all true; she was exhausted, she was hungry, and her body ached. Hermione wanted nothing more to take a hot bath and sleep for days. She could rest when it was finished. 

“Unfortunately for me, _Professor_ ,” she snapped, “the world and all of its problems won’t wait around for me to get myself together.” 

Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor through and through. Severus knew that whatever he said to her regarding her current state would go in one ear and out the other. He relented, nonetheless, handing her the wand she used at the Manor. “Potter and Weasley are in the Forest of Dean. I cannot tell you their exact location. I recommend you stay here for a few days, but if you are determined to go, at least drink this,” Snape said, pulling a small flask from his pocket. 

“What is it?” Hermione was clearly suspicious.

“It is something I always keep with me. It is a potion that will help you on your mission. It will make you more alert, give you more energy, and strengthen your weakened muscles.” 

Hermione looked at him quizzically. Snape didn’t have to use Legilimency to know her brain was working overtime to determine his motives. His expression was totally emotionless as he offered the flask to her. “Surely I have proven myself to be trustworthy by now, Miss Granger.”

Hermione took the flask reluctantly. She knew of no potion that would do the things Snape had mentioned. Still, she admitted to herself, he did know more about potion making than anyone and is more than capable of inventing his own brews. She uncorked the flask and drank the emerald liquid inside. The effects of the potion hit her instantly. Hermione began feeling light-headed. The room started swirling around her and she collapsed to the floor. Before losing consciousness, she realized what had happened – Snape had tricked her into drinking a Sleeping Potion.

*****

Severus contemplated leaving Hermione on the floor and making his exit. The girl would be safe here. The Dark Lord couldn’t possibly know that this place existed. After some more thought, he knew he couldn’t leave. As soon as she woke, Hermione would leave in search of Potter and Weasley. He couldn’t leave until she was at full health, but he had to get back to Voldemort and try to run some damage control. Severus picked up Hermione’s limp body and carried her to the nearest bedroom. He laid her on the bed and set his mind to work on his alibi. He could simply explain that he gave Granger the potions to prolong her suffering. He had made deceiving Voldemort an art form. This time would be no different. The question remained, however, how he was going to explain Potter and Weasley’s disappearance. Granger had had no idea that he had slipped a Portkey into Potter’s pocket, so there is no way the Dark Lord could have gained that information from reading her mind, unless ... 

Severus released a ragged breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. What if Granger had been an unwitting observer to the transaction? That would certainly complicate matters. As good as he was at deceit and manipulation, even Severus could not wiggle his way out of helping The Boy Who Lived escape Voldemort’s clutches. He had to know for sure what Voldemort had seen inside the girl’s mind before he went back to him. With Hermione asleep, he had the perfect opportunity. He could use Legilimency to replay the events of the evening from her perspective without her even knowing he was invading her thoughts. Steadying himself, he turned to face Hermione, placing the tip of his wand at her temple.

Just as Snape expected, Hermione Granger’s mind was easy to enter but was shrouded in a thick haze. This was not an uncommon side effect for someone who had been drugged with such a highly potent Sleeping Potion. While the potion weakened one's defenses, it also filled the mind with a ceaseless fog. Anyone without considerable Legilimency training would get lost in the inner workings of the mind if their victim was doused with such a Sleeping Potion. Severus knew he had to take his time or he would miss the particular memory he was looking for. Exercising extreme caution, he began the journey to the recesses of her thoughts. 

Hermione’s mind was methodically organized, even in her current state. Snape allowed a small smile to creep across his face when he realized what she had done. The silly girl had created an extensive library to store and catalogue all of her memories and emotions. Hermione Granger was extremely predicable but equally remarkable, nonetheless. Severus realized if she were to ever receive proper instruction in the art of Occlumency, she would have nearly impenetrable defenses. Surrounded by the haze were tall bookcases containing hundreds of ancient-looking tomes. The books had identical brown leather bindings, but lacked titles or any other identifying marks. Snape walked up and down the row of cases before he finally stopped at the last shelf. Taking his chances, Severus selected one of the manuscripts from the case and opened it carefully. The misery and loss that seeped from the book nearly took his breath away. He hadn’t felt anything like this for nearly sixteen years; since he cradled Lily Potter’s lifeless body on the floor of her son’s nursery. He watched in silence as Hermione erased herself from her parents’ lives with a single, perfect spell. Even though she had just saved their lives, she was, for lack of a better word, dead to them. Solemnly, Severus closed the book and returned it to the empty space on the shelf.

Trying to get a feel for how Hermione had organized her mind, Severus selected another volume from the same case. This particular memory had an aura of frustration clouding it. He could see Hermione alone at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place, surrounded by opened books and layers of parchment. By the look of the parchment she was currently scribbling on, Hermione was in the middle of a particularly complex Arithmancy chart. As he looked over the number patterns on the sheet, Severus realized she was trying to predict something. Snape continued watching the memory. Hermione stopped writing and stared down at the digit covered parchment for some time. Without warning, the feeling of the memory changed. Anger coursed through her as she allowed the parchment to fall to the floor. With an abrupt sweep of her arm, she knocked everything on the table to the floor and quietly sobbed in her chair. As he closed the book and replaced it, Snape made a mental note to ask her about this particular memory again. 

Severus could tell he was getting closer to what he was looking for. The last two memories he had selected were from the current year. He looked down at the last book on the shelf. If his presumptions were correct, this volume should hold all of the memories he needed from the early morning. As soon as his fingers touched the book, he could sense a plethora of emotion radiating from each page but couldn’t identify one in particular. This memory was fresh. This was definitely what he was looking for. He opened the book and found himself watching the ambush that had taken his three former students off guard. He watched as Bellatrix Lestrange insulted one of the most promising minds of her age and he felt Hermione’s burning determination to prove herself. He watched himself jump her in the narrow corridor at Malfoy Manor. Even though she never showed it, Severus was surprised to learn that Hermione felt a glimmer of hope when she realized who he was. He saw through her eyes his altercation with Potter. This was the most crucial part of the memory. He had to look closely, for nothing, not even the smallest detail, would have escaped the Dark Lord’s scrutiny. He watched as he removed his hands from Potter’s neck and saw the unmistakable image of a small, shiny paperclip fall from his hand to Potter’s pocket. 

The book containing the damning memory fell to the imaginary floor with a thud, breaking the connection he had with Hermione’s mind. He had been discovered by the Dark Lord himself. There would be no recovering from this monumental mistake. He was a traitor and had undoubtedly been issued a death sentence.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

**As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Also, I wanted to thank those of you who have stuck with this story from the very start. It has been a pleasure to write and hopefully it has been a pleasure to read! The next chapter is currently being revised and will be posted once I am satisfied.**


	8. Betrayal

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**Betrayal**

_The betrayal of trust carries a heavy taboo.--Aldrich Ames_

The golden rays of the rising winter sun crept over the lawn of Malfoy Manor, causing the frost covered ground to glisten magnificently. To any outward observer, the Manor was a symbol of perfection and age-old tradition; a setting taken directly from the pages of a Victorian romance novel. But, as they usually are, looks are deceiving. The warm glow blanketing the house did little for the bone-chilling atmosphere found within its walls. The Dark Lord had been deceived and there was hell to pay.

Voldemort was pacing menacingly in front of a striking marble fireplace in the drawing room; his followers sat silent and unmoving at a long, ornate dining table. He stopped to stare into the flames before he finally addressed those present at the meeting.

“I have never witnessed a more vulgar display of betrayal or deceit. I was a fool for trusting him. I should have known all those years as Dumbledore’s lapdog would ruin him; another brilliant mind brainwashed by that old man and his poisonous ideas. I should have foreseen that his pathetic affection toward that filthy Mudblood years ago would manifest itself as a soft spot for the Granger girl.”

The seated Death Eaters exchanged confused glances. The Dark Lord wasn’t making any sense. Everyone in the room had seen the way Snape had treated the Mudblood. He had never been that ruthless and unyielding at an interrogation. 

“My Lord, I am afraid I do not understand,” Lucius queried cautiously. “I have known Snape for nearly twenty years. He has been loyal to our cause. The girl was the one to use the Mark, my Lord, not Severus.”

Voldemort whipped around at the blond man’s comment, his hand wrapped firmly around his neck. “Lucius, are you truly that ignorant?” 

A bead of cold sweat ran down Malfoy’s face. He knew he had to choose his words carefully or pay the ultimate price. “I…I…forgive me, my Lord. I…I did not mean to question your judgment.”

“Your blatant lies disgust me, Lucius,” Voldemort seethed, tightening the hold on his neck. “If you weren’t useful to me, I would slaughter you.”

“I deserve nothing less, m-my Lord.”

“You would do well to remember that! Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.” Voldemort dropped his hand and continued to pace, obviously deep in thought. “It does not surprise me that you fools failed to notice such an act of dishonor. Severus Snape is a traitor. I witnessed with my own eyes, him giving Potter an object that was obviously charmed with the Portus Spell.” Voldemort stopped and turned to face his followers. “Snape must be brought to justice. My command to all of you is to find Severus and bring him to me…alive. I want to dispose of him myself.”

The room went deathly silent for a few seconds before Amycus Carrow asked the question on everyone’s mind. “What of Snape’s position at Hogwarts, my Lord?” 

“Severus will not return as Headmaster, Amycus. I will need someone that I can easily control in the position; someone to tell me of any questionable activities of the students or staff.” 

At his master’s comment, a broad smile crept across Amycus’s face. He and his sister Alecto were already stationed at Hogwarts serving as Deputies to Snape. It would only make sense if one of them were to take the position. The Dark Lord seemed to be aware of Carrow’s secret desire and quickly squashed it. “As eager as you are, Amycus, you will remain a Deputy Headmaster, just as Alecto.” Voldemort turned his attention to Malfoy with a devious smirk appearing across his face. “Lucius will take the position of Headmaster.”

“You are most gracious, my Lord,” Malfoy replied, still refusing to look directly at him.

“Do not think for one instant, Lucius, that I am giving you this position because you deserve it,” Voldemort spat. “I grow tired of your failure and your worthless presence here. Perhaps this appointment will be one you do not squander.”

“I will not fail you, my Lord.”

“See that you don’t, Lucius, because you will pay for it with your miserable life. As for the rest of you, you know what to do. Now get out of my sight.”

*********

“Ron, FORGET it!” Harry screamed, angry tears welling up in his eyes. He would not cry. There wasn’t time for that. “We have to stick to the plan, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember the bloody plan. But that doesn’t mean I want to follow through with it. We can’t just leave her there. Who knows what they’ll do to her—what Snape’ll do to her! The route he was going, it looked like they were all going to have a go at her!"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the mention of Hermione’s supposed fate, causing Ron to nearly run over top of him. He spun around on his heel to face Ron directly. “Do you think I like the thoughts of leaving Hermione there with those vile people? DO YOU?!”

Ron dropped his gaze from Harry’s blazing green eyes. The anger coursing through Harry was paramount, leaving no room for reason. Without warning he shoved Ron, sending him tumbling backwards.

“Answer me!”

“NO!” Ron said, looking up at his best friend. “I know you don’t like it, but we can’t let this stupid mission get in the way of saving her.” Scrambling to his feet, Ron grabbed Harry by his shoulders and shook him. “Harry, it’s Hermione. She needs us!”

“I know she does! She’s my friend too, Ron. But what do you expect us to do? We don’t even have a wand. How are we supposed to save her when we don’t even have anything to protect ourselves?”

“We’ll find a way. I am not leaving her there.”

“You don’t even know where ‘there’ is! We could be days away from her. We would never reach her in time to save her.”

Ron’s face was the same shade as his hair. He didn’t like to hear the truth and he was getting a hard dose of it. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t give up on her, Harry!”

“She could be dead right now for all we know.”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

Harry grabbed Ron by the bloody collar of his shirt, bringing them inches apart. “How long do you think they kept her alive after we disappeared?” he said through clenched teeth. “She will have nothing to tell them! She is of no use to them at this point. They will kill her and probably already have!”

“What has happened to you, Harry?” Ron said, shaking himself free from his grasp. “When did this stupid mission from Dumbledore get in the way of saving the people close to you?”

“THIS,” Harry said, opening his arms wide to their current predicament, “this is the only thing we can do for Hermione now. We find the Horcruxes, and we kill the bastard for good. We honor her by doing what you and I both know she would have wanted us to do. If we give up, Ron, Voldemort wins. Snape wins. They all win! Hermione will have died for nothing. She will just be another pawn in his twisted game for power.”

Ron dropped to his knees on the frosty, grubby ground, both his hands running through his fiery red hair. He knew Harry was right, even if he didn’t want to believe it. It would be a miracle if Hermione was still among the living. It had been several hours since he and Harry had Portkeyed to the Forest of Dean. Several hours and probably many kilometers stood between him and his other best friend. He thought back to the last time he saw Hermione. Her exposed flesh drenched in a layer of her own blood, as Snape held her against her will. The very idea of the greasy bastard touching her caused him to spill the contents of his stomach across the ground in front of him. 

“Ron, we have to keep moving,” Harry said quietly. He hated to interrupt Ron right now because he knew deep down his friend needed a chance to come to terms with that happened. “The woods are probably crawling with Snatchers.”

“I know. I just need a minute, please.”

“Okay,” Harry said, turning to walk in the opposite direction. “I’ll just leave you to your thoughts then.”

“No. Don’t leave me by myself, alright. I can’t do this on my own.”

“I’m right here,” Harry said, placing his hand on Ron’s shoulder. 

Together the two of them silently mourned the loss of their closest friend and brains of the Golden Trio. There would be no going back from this point. Now it was just the two of them. Hermione Granger would receive justice.

********

Hermione awoke with a start. She sat straight up in bed before she was forced by to lie down again by her dizziness. She had slept for what felt like hours, and by the amount of light coming through the room’s only window, she could tell her assumption was correct. It was nearly nightfall. She pressed her thumb and forefinger firmly against the bridge of her nose, trying to will the fog from her vision. It took her a moment, but she realized that she was still in her grandmother’s old house. She tried hard to remember what had happened before she dozed off. She had been arguing with Snape about needing to find Harry and Ron and he had given her some sort of potion to drink that was supposed to reenergize her. _That bastard! A sleeping potion!_

Hermione’s anger cut through the haze inside her head and she walked determinedly into the sitting room. There she found her former professor reclining on the sofa. His eyes were closed. For an instant, Hermione considered screaming at him or perhaps even slapping his giant nose off his face. Then she realized the opportunity that had been presented to her. Snape had not wanted her to go and surely he would try to stop her again if he were awake. Careful not to make a sound, Hermione grabbed her bag from the table and tiptoed toward the door.

“Leaving without saying goodbye, Miss Granger?”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, her hand tightening around the spare wand. Without warning, she spun on her heel to face her now standing professor. “You can go straight to Hell! You have some nerve to talk to me after that stunt you pulled this morning. Why are you still here anyway? I thought you would have run back to your master by now.”

Snape bristled at Hermione’s comment, but kept his composure. He couldn’t afford to screw this up. “Given the unexpected change of events, I find myself in need of your assistance, Miss Granger.”

“What has happened?” 

“That is for me to know. Are you going to help me or not?” Severus said, displaying no sign of emotion.

“What could I possibly be able to do for you? You spent the better part of my time at Hogwarts informing me of all my inadequacies,” Hermione snapped.“Furthermore, I don’t know if I can trust you. You have tortured me, humiliated me, drugged me, and lied to me. If you want me to ‘assist’ you, Professor Snape, you are going to have tell me what is going on!”

“Are you quite finished?” Snape said, with narrowed eyes. 

Hermione had had enough of Severus Snape. If she didn’t get away from him soon, there was a good possibility she would end up hexing him into next week. Frustrated, Hermione looked him dead in the eye, hoping he would understand how serious she was. “Goodbye, Professor Snape. Careful not to let the door hit you in the arse when you see yourself out.” With that, Hermione turned and made her way through the front door, closing it with a loud bang.

Once outside, Hermione walked purposefully to the back of the house to hide herself from any Muggles that may be traveling along the road that wound its way past her grandmother’s house. When she was certain she was adequately concealed, she began thinking of the Forest of Dean, specifically, the spot where she, Harry, and Ron had last made camp. She blocked everything else from her mind, even her infuriation with her former professor. She concentrated intensely and waited to feel the jerk in her stomach that would propel her to her desired location. It never came. She tried again. Nothing. 

Fuming, Hermione threw open the back door of the house. “SEVERUS SNAPE! What have you done?! Do you think this is going to stop me? You can’t have put a jinx on all of Britain!”

“Calm yourself, you foolish girl,” Severus snapped, as he quickly entered the dimly lit kitchen to quiet her. 

“Calm myself?! After all I’ve been through, after all _you_ have put me through, you want me to be calm?”

“Yes,” he said, grabbing her by her shoulders and pushing her into the wall, “that is exactly what I expect you to do.”

“Get your hands off me!” 

Severus immediately dropped his hands from her small frame and walked away. “I should have known you couldn’t handle this!” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “I was a fool to even consider it.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Hermione shrieked. “You refused to tell me what you wanted me to do! I am sorry, Professor, but I cannot—will not—allow myself to trust you until I know what I am getting myself into.”

“You don’t trust me?! Are you so ignorant that you cannot see that I just risked my life to save the three of you?”

Hermione looked at him, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Miss Granger, you are allowing your emotions to get in the way of your powers of perception. During my altercation with Potter, I slipped him a Portkey in the form of a paperclip. You didn’t realize that you saw it, but you did. When the Dark Lord entered your mind, he saw me drop the Portkey in Potter’s pocket through your eyes! He knows that I am a traitor and has undoubtedly put a hefty bounty on my head!”

Snape watched as all of the color drained form Hermione’s face as she understood the meaning of what he had just professed to her. She leaned against the door facing for support, bringing her hands to cover her face. Severus remained silent as he watched her, though he eternally waged war with himself to do otherwise. He did not dare enter her thoughts. He had taken enough liberty with her mind over the past twenty-four hours and he would not do it again without her permission. He did owe her that much after all. He crossed the distance between them in two strides.

“Miss Granger?”

Slowly Hermione looked up at him, half expecting an unforgiving expression on his face. It was her fault his cover had been blown. If she would have been watching more intently, she would have noticed that detail and perhaps could have hid it from Voldemort. All of this was her fault. Tears began to stream down her face as she met Snape’s dark eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

“I am sorry I misjudged you,” she said quietly. “All of this is my fault. If I hadn’t suggested the trip to London, Ron, Harry and I would be together. And you, you wouldn’t be in this horrid situation. I know I do not deserve your forgiveness but...”

Snape raised his hand in the air to stop her from going on any further. He had limited experience with emotional females and he certainly didn’t have time to deal with one now. “There is no reason for you to apologize, Hermione. What’s done is done. If the blame lies with anyone, it is me.” 

Hermione stood a bit straighter when she realized he wasn’t going to cut her down for being foolish or emotional. If anything, he was downright empathetic towards her, which was surprising considering she had just yelled at him minutes before. Screaming in Severus Snape’s face did not end well for most people, no matter the situation that caused it. Hermione figured he was desperate for her help because he had tolerated her beyond what she knew he was usually capable of. 

“They are hunting you, aren’t they—the other Death Eaters? Maybe even the Dark Lord himself?”

“I would bet my last Galleon on it. However, it is unlikely the Dark Lord knows that I saw my mistake in your thoughts. He will be banking on my naivety. He will be expecting me to act as if I know nothing of the exchange.”

“What are you planning to do? Go along with it and hope you come out on the winning side of things?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. There is no going back to the way things were. That would be suicide.”

“Well you can’t go to the Order for help. They believe you to be Dumbledore’s murderer.”

“I am,” he stated simply.

“I don’t believe it.”

“Interesting,” Severus smirked. “I would have expected Potter to divulge the entire ordeal to you.”

“Oh, he did,” Hermione said with a sigh. “He told me everything he saw that night on the Astronomy Tower. But he has never cared much for you, so I expected him to turn you into a monster. What he told me didn’t make much sense. I can’t put my finger on it, but I believe he was deceived in some way.”

Perhaps Hermione Granger was more perceptive than Severus had first thought. Regardless of what she thought of his innocence concerning the death of Albus Dumbledore, this was not a conversation he felt comfortable having at the present time. Severus would never forgive Albus for forcing him to cast the Killing Curse that night and that haunted him nearly every day. He had to change the conversation soon or deal with the overwhelming feeling of guilt and betrayal that usually accompanied this particular memory. 

“What the Order members choose to believe is of no consequence, Miss Granger. They would never help me and, to be quite frank, I do not want their help. ” 

“You can’t deal with the Dark Lord and all of the Death Eaters on your own, Professor Snape. You may be a powerful wizard, but one against dozens doesn’t seem to be in your favor. ” 

“That is where you come in, Miss Granger.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but her curiosity soon won over. “What do you want me to do?”

“You are going to help me get into Hogwarts…tonight.”

“Why do you want to go there? I thought you said the Dark Lord would be expecting you to act like nothing happened. By going back there, you could be walking right into a trap.” 

“That doesn’t matter. Minerva—Professor McGonagall must be warned. The students and staff are in danger. I have no doubt the Dark Lord has given the position of Headmaster to someone else within the inner circle. If it is one of the Carrow siblings, we may already be too late.”

The look on Hermione’s face was a mix of panic and determination. He had played her right into his hands yet again. _That’s right Snape, you bastard,_ he thought. _Hit her where it hurts. Bring the ones she cares about into this. Then she can’t refuse you._ Severus knew she wasn’t strong enough to go parading around the Forest of Dean alone and he couldn’t drug her again and leave her unprotected. The only other option was to take her with him while he tried to repair some of the damage done. She would be useful enough.

“Alright then, I’ll help you. But after that, I am going to Ron and Harry.”

“Very well. Are you ready to depart now?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without another word, the two walked from the meager kitchen into the blanket of cold darkness awaiting them outside.

* * *

**Author’s Notes: ******

****As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Also, this super long delay between updates will not happen again. Real life and work have gotten in the way of revising but now things have started to calm down. Expect regular updates and responses to your reviews! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.** **


	9. Chapter 9

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Infiltration 

Hermione Granger and Severus Snape made their way around to the more secluded part of the backyard. Even though they were shrouded in darkness, they couldn’t risk being seen by anyone.

“I don’t suppose you have a broom in that beaded bag of yours?” Snape asked, stopping to look down at his new counterpart.

“Actually, no, I don’t. Flying is too dangerous for us because we could be seen easily from the air and I am not particularly fond of it.”

“Something the Gryffindor princess cannot do?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but had bite to it.

Hermione glared up at him. She couldn’t tell due to the lack of light, but she thought she saw his lip curl for the slightest second before his face went back to its usual emotionless pose. She wouldn’t rise to his bait. The best way to deal with Severus Snape is to ignore his jabs.

“That wasn’t what I said at all, thank you very much. I can fly just fine. I just prefer to keep my feet safely on the ground where they belong.”

“Indeed.”

“Anyway,” she said, “I think we are safely hidden. Are you going to Disapparate or would you like for me to do it?”

“Disapparition is too dangerous for what we have to do. Besides, it won’t work where we’re going.”

“Are we using a Portkey?”

Snape simply shook his head, held out his hand in front of her and remained silent as he waited for her to take it. Hermione looked down at his white palm, trying to decide if all of this was worth it. Even though she had told him she trusted him, there was still a small part of her that told her this was a very bad idea. Her conscience eventually won the battle. Snape needed her help and she owed it to him after he risked his own life to save hers. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his. 

Hermione was surprised to learn how warm his hand was given the cold night air. What was more surprising to her was the way he was holding her hand. She half expected him to tug her along like a small child, his hand gripped tightly around her wrist or palm. Instead, his long fingers laced between hers, forming a solid link between the two of them. His grip was tight, but not uncomfortable. This contact had to have been awkward for him because, in all of her years at Hogwarts, she had never seen Professor Snape touch anyone, especially not one of his students from a rival house. Whatever angst he felt about their contact, though, he kept it to himself. She was secretly grateful for this because his touch was somewhat comforting given her rather eventful day and the task that lie before them. 

Snape could feel Hermione tense when he touched her. He studied her carefully, noticing her head tilted in the direction of their interlocked hands. “Is something wrong?" he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. 

Startled, Hermione looked up at him, thankful the darkness masked the reddening of her cheeks. “I…yes. No—I mean no. Everything is fine.” _Great, Hermione,_ she thought. _Make him hate you ever more for making this awkward._

Snape raised an eyebrow but never said a word on the subject again. “Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand for any reason. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” 

No sooner than Hermione had answered him, she felt the ground beneath her feet disappear. The oddest sensation of weightlessness filled her senses and every part of her being. She looked down only to see her grandmother’s house some twenty meters below them and growing smaller. Their feet had dissolved into a dark mist that was now trailing behind them. Instinctively, she swung her free arm around his neck to keep from plummeting back to Earth.

“What in God’s name are you doing?!” she shrieked. 

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, “you are perfectly safe.”

Hermione suddenly realized what he was doing. Snape could fly without a broom! She had never seen anything like this in her life. A million questions entered her mind at the same time, each vying for a chance to make themselves known. She knew he hated answering questions, especially hers, so she decided to ask him one and leave it at that.

“H-how did you learn to do this?” she asked in amazement. 

“The Dark Lord has a way of rewarding those he can trust. As it turns out, the skill is quite practical when one needs to make a quick, quiet escape.” 

“Is it difficult?”

“The only way to truly understand the depth of magic needed to achieve such a feat as this is to do it for yourself. As it happens, I have no desire to fall to my death, so you will have to find out on your own time.” 

“Will you teach me?”

“No.”

Severus could sense the disappointment radiating off the young woman clutching his arm. If anyone hated to be told no, it was Hermione Granger. For some reason, he felt the overwhelming need to explain his reasoning to her. “Flying without assistance goes against magical law. It is strictly enforced. What kind of an influence would I be if I taught you to break the rules?”

Hermione stared at him, trying to determine if she had heard him properly. Had Severus Snape just made an attempt at humor? Severus seemed to be aware of her scrutiny. “Believe it or not, Miss Granger, I am not a cynic every waking moment.”

The rest of their journey, from that moment, was silent. Neither of them knew what to make of the other, or themselves for that matter. Severus Snape was cursing himself for letting his guard down long enough to share a joke with a former student, and a Gryffindor at that. He was being too reckless around her and it had to stop. The more Severus was around Hermione, the more qualities he could find that she shared with Lily Evens. The one difference was Hermione’s capacity for forgiveness. It is an incredibly dangerous trait to have and probably her biggest flaw. Forgiveness will sometimes get you killed quicker than letting your guard down. Severus knew this firsthand because he had spent the last twenty years of his life trying to win back the forgiveness of a dead woman. It had nearly cost him his life more times than he cared to think about. 

Hermione, on the other hand, was struggling to come to terms with the fact that she had no idea of who Severus Snape really was. She was usually more observant than this. While he was her professor, Snape was always very professional and calculated. He always seemed to be five steps ahead of everyone else, which kept him in complete control. He was a cold and solitary person that you did not want to cross. While he was ‘playing’ a Death Eater he was vicious, unremitting and absolutely terrifying at times. Hermione had never noticed until now, but the one quality he had that would transcend both of his roles was his protectiveness. While his methods were questionable, they were effective. There was certainly more to Severus Snape than met the eye. Hermione looked down to where their hands should have been, only to find the murky mist that their bodies had dissolved into. Even though she couldn’t see their bodies, she could still feel him beside her, holding on to her, protecting her. She squeezed his hand slightly. It was just a silent way for her to thank the man that had always been her protector, even when she failed to see it. Hermione knew he wouldn’t understand the meaning of the gesture and she was perfectly okay with that. That certainly wasn’t a door she wanted to open at this point. Besides, the squeeze was so light there was no way he could have felt it, right?

But, he did feel it. It was a slight pressure that ended as soon as it began. Severus did not respond with a squeeze of his own, but rather a light brush of the tips of his fingers across the back of her hand. As soon as he moved his fingers across her skin, he instantly regretted it. It was the smallest movement, but it carried the heaviest consequences. The moment he touched her in such a manner was the moment he realized he was beginning to think of her as something other than a student. At this point, he wasn’t sure what she was. A nuisance, yes, but one he was finding himself increasingly able to tolerate. He blamed it on the fact that he felt like he had to offer her some sort of compensation for nearly killing her. The fact that she reminded him of Lily by her actions did not help matters, either. _A few more hours,_ he told himself. _A few more hours and she’ll be with Potter and I’ll be alone._

They had been flying through the air for some time before Severus finally broke the silence between them. “Ready yourself, Miss Granger. We are nearly there.”

Hermione looked down at the ground but could only see bits of the darkened landscape through the clouds. No buildings, no lights, no sign of life. “How can you tell where we are, Professor? I can’t make anything out from up here.”

“I suppose it is intuition.”

Hermione looked down once more. They were out of the cloud cover and the ground was finally coming into focus. They were over the Forbidden Forest. Suddenly, Snape sent them spiraling straight down, narrowly missing a large Scots Pine. He moved like a whisper through the densely populated forest, weaving in and out, barely missing fallen tree trunks and huge boulders. They were moving so quickly through the canopy that the nearby trees turned into a blur. It was nauseating. 

“ I think I’m going to be sick!”

“Do not vomit on me! Close your eyes if you must. We are almost to the edge of the grounds.”

Hermione followed his advice and it lessened the effects of the motion sickness, but only by a little. She could still feel the wind rushing through her hair and the bits of bark and dirt hitting her face they were kicking up as he maneuvered them past obstacles. Hermione started to count the seconds in her head to draw her attention from her unsettled stomach. 

Without warning, they came to an abrupt halt. Snape instinctively grabbed Hermione around the waist to keep her from falling over. Once she found her footing, he released her without a word and walked to the edge of the woods, his robes billowing behind him in their usual fashion. He stopped just before he reached the edge of the tree line, blending into the darkness perfectly. Years of being an informant had sharpened his skills of perception and deception, but they had also forced him to live his life in the shadows, never going to one side or the other. Hogwarts was the only thing that remained constant in Severus’s life. As he looked across the large expanse of ground, he could see the castle in all of its glory. Hogwarts was his own personal Heaven and Hell. When he was younger, the castle was his escape from an abusive home. In his adulthood, it was a constant reminder of the poor choices he made. He turned his attention to the Astronomy Tower. He had lost count of the number of nights he had woken up in a pool of his own sweat, this tower the cause of his torment. Most nights, the very thought of the tower and the memories surrounding it would send him into a Firewhisky-induced row of self-pity and hatred he would wallow in for days. 

“Not tonight, Snape,” he warned himself aloud, “not tonight.” 

“Not tonight, what sir?”

“That is none of your concern, Miss Granger,” he cautioned sternly. She didn’t need to know about his alcohol-fueled pity parties. She was becoming incredibly intrusive and her boldness was beginning to wear on his nerves. He spun on his heel to rebuke her for being so meddlesome, but was startled by her drastic change of appearance. She must have transfigured her clothes into something more inconspicuous while he was busy scrutinizing the castle. Hermione was no longer wearing jeans and jumper. She was now dressed entirely in black. Even in the pale moonlight, Snape instantly noticed how the tight-fitting pants and long sleeved shirt showed off the girl’s shape. Perhaps she wasn’t as thin as he had first believed. He immediately scolded himself for noticing such an inappropriate and extraneous detail. 

“If you are finished with your costume change, Miss Granger, we have work to do.”

“I wouldn’t be much use to you if I were seen, now would I?” Hermione quipped as she moved past him, heading for the lawn that touched the edge of the forest.

Severus stared after the young woman as she brushed past him. When did Hermione Granger develop such cheek? Even when he was in the process of ‘torturing’ her, she had addressed him as professionally and as politely as she could, given her circumstances. Now, she was verbally sparring with him every time the opportunity presented itself. Hermione was a good distance out onto the lawn before she turned around to look at him. She held up both hands in annoyance, motioning for him to follow. _Such cheek, indeed,_ he thought as he made his way out to where she stood.

*****

The two of them moved like shadows across the sloping lawns bordering the castle. It was nearly two in the morning and most of the inhabitants of the castle were tucked safely into their beds. It was essential they stayed that way. Severus had no intention of causing a commotion as it would most likely be met with serious consequences for the students and staff. He had absolutely no idea who the Dark Lord had put in his place. Therefore, it was crucial they keep a low profile until he knew who he was dealing with.

Right before they came to the Greenhouses, he stopped and turned to look at her. “As soon as we enter the castle, it is important that you do as I say. We are not here to make a scene. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Follow behind me and stay quiet.”

He led them through the rows of Greenhouses before coming to a stop along the outside wall of the East Wing. Snape touched his wand to a broken piece of stone and muttered the words, _“Modo potest revelare.”_ The stone melted away, taking the adjacent stones with it. Hermione peered around Snape’s looming frame to see an ominous tunnel appear in the side of the castle. Snape stepped inside and motioned for her to follow him. The corridor had a strong musty odor and was very dimly lit. The moment Hermione stepped through the opening, she had the worst feeling of déjà vu. 

“Where does this lead?” she asked, a bit of apprehension in her voice. 

“My personal chambers.”

“I thought the Headmaster’s quarters were on the seventh floor.”

“They are,” he replied in annoyance, “I did not stay there.” 

Hermione could tell by the sting in his voice that he was in no mood for her questions. She followed him silently, though her brain was moving a thousand miles per hour to figure out where he was leading her. Soon enough, her curiosity won out.

“Are we still on the ground floor, sir?” she asked him hesitantly. 

“Yes, we are.”

“But I thought-“ 

“That I lived in the dungeons?” he said harshly. “Contrary to popular opinion, I do not, nor have I ever lived there.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, sir. I was just asking.”

“Miss Granger, there comes a time when one should keep their mouth closed. That moment for you was approximately twenty seconds ago. If you keep behaving like a nuisance, you will be treated as such. Do I make myself clear?” 

Severus knew he was being particularly unfriendly to her, and a small part of him felt guilty for it, but Hermione Granger was not his friend and would never be if he had anything to do with it. He had to keep reminding himself that she was merely here for lack of a better alternative. Somehow, the young woman had managed to unhinge him. His thoughts returned to Malfoy Manor, where he saw her lying on the stone floor completely at his mercy. He had invaded her thoughts, he had drugged her, yet here she was trying to help him because he had told her he needed her. Severus guessed Hermione felt responsible for his current state, but he couldn’t help feeling that she also genuinely wanted to help him. No one had ever treated him that way, not even Albus, the man he had assumed to be his friend. Every time someone did something for him, something was almost always required in return. Severus turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of her. Just as he had anticipated, there were fresh tear trails across her cheeks. Against his better judgment, he slowed his pace and eventually stopped. He spoke without looking at her, for fear of losing his nerve. “Forgive my comment. I did not mean to offend you.”

Hermione looked at up at him, frustrated by the fact that he didn’t even turn to look at her when he spoke. She knew Severus Snape apologized to no one but couldn’t help feeling cheated. “Don’t worry about it,” she said as she moved past him hastily. She wasn’t fast enough. He caught her by the arm, pushing her into the wall.

“No,” he warned, pointing to the end of the tunnel. “The entrance to my chambers is heavily protected. It is a variation of the Imperturbable Charm. Walking into it will render you unconscious for several hours.”

Hermione looked up at him with a scowl set firmly in place. She was secretly thankful that he hadn’t let her walk into it, but she wasn’t about to let him know it. Without missing a beat, she smiled at him before extending her free arm, “Then by all means, after you, sir.” He released her arm and started for the end of the tunnel. Concealed by the darkness, Severus allowed a small smile to grace his features before quickly replacing it with his usual look of sternness. Hermione Granger didn’t openly accept his apology, but somehow he knew by her impertinent remark that he was forgiven.

Upon approaching the end of the tunnel, Snape held up his hand for her stop. Hermione watched from a short distance as he waved his wand in a series of intricate motions, never once saying a word. All of the sudden, a large wooden door appeared in the stone. Snape opened the door and walked inside, leaving it ajar. Hermione walked up to the threshold and looked around the surprisingly large room. There were books everywhere, along with several bottles that Hermione could only assume contained ingredients for potion making. The room was illuminated by a large window that took up nearly half of the outside wall. That was impossible, of course, since Hermione had just seen that, from the outside, the wall was solid. Snape had clearly enchanted the window to allow himself to view the grounds from inside his room while remaining hidden to the outside world by a stone wall. “Come in, Miss Granger, but remember, it is of the utmost importance that you not touch anything.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s mine.” Hermione nodded sheepishly and stepped into the room. The smell of aged books flooded her nostrils. She walked around, careful not to disturb Snape’s possessions. Snape was rummaging through the drawers of his mahogany desk when something caught Hermione’s eye. It was a framed photograph sitting at eye level on one of Snape’s many bookcases. It was him and a redheaded girl aboard the Hogwarts Express. She could tell from the girl’s eyes that the woman was Harry’s mother, Lily. Lily and Severus were sitting together laughing. From the looks of them, they were eleven years old, on their way to their first year at Hogwarts. Hermione looked back at Snape who was now feverishly writing on a piece of parchment. She wondered how long it had been since the last time he had laughed like that. She realized the man sitting at the desk in front of her was more complex than she could have ever imagined. Did anyone really know Severus Snape?

Unaware of Hermione’s gaze, Snape crossed the short distance from his desk to the large fireplace that stood near the tunnel door. He grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from a black jar on the mantle and tossed into the firebox. An eerie green fire roared to life and he tossed the now sealed parchment in just as he said, “Minerva McGonagall’s office.” 

“Do you still have that bag, Miss Granger?” he asked as he returned to his desk.

“I-uh…what?”

“Your bag? The one with the Extension Charm. Do you still have it with you?”

“Yes sir, of course.” 

“Good,” he said as he placed various phials, books and sheets of parchment into a dark green messenger bag. He shrunk the satchel so it fit easily into the palm of his hand before tossing it in her direction. “Put this in your bag and follow me.” Hermione retrieved the purple bag from her shoe and shoved Snape’s belongings inside. Pulling the drawstring closed, she stuffed the bag back in its hiding place and scurried across the large room to where Snape was waiting for her. 

“From here, we go to the Headmaster’s Tower,” Snape said, pausing at the door to his personal chambers. “Stay close to me. If we are separated on the staircases, we risk of the chance of being seen.”

“Isn’t that a bit reckless?” Hermione asked earnestly. “For all you know, the Dark Lord is sitting behind that desk waiting for you.”

“That is highly unlikely,” Snape ground out in annoyance. 

“Why take that chance?”

“Because it is necessary,” he bellowed, slamming his fist into the wooden door. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, startled by his sudden outburst. “There is something I must get from the office. Without it, Potter will fail.” Snape pushed the door open, but before he stepped outside, he turned to look at Hermione. “If you are not capable of finishing this, then by all means, stay behind.”

“You have no idea what I am capable of,” Hermione said quietly, her voice betraying the smallest hint of condescension.

“Then prove to me that you can handle it, Miss Granger,” he trailed off, heading up the dark corridor. “Prove to me that you trust my judgment.”

Hermione stood silently in Snape’s door, trying to decide if she should follow after him. He had some nerve to speak to her that way. She knew that he would never knowingly place her in danger, but it just didn’t seem practical to throw themselves into the snake pit before fully assessing the situation. If Snape wanted proof, she would give him proof. She closed the door, careful not to make too much noise, and headed off in his direction.

“I do trust you, you know,” she whispered once she finally caught up to him. “I always have.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he told her in a voice hardly audible. 

“I know. I just thought you should know.”

“And now I know.”

*****

When they reached the Grand Staircase Tower, it was as if the castle knew of their intentions. The stairs were aligned perfectly to allow them to quickly make the climb to the seventh floor corridor. Once they were on the landing, Snape grabbed Hermione from behind, pulling her into a small hideaway concealed by darkness. Hermione turned to protest, but the sound of footsteps coming down the stone walkway stifled the notion. There, concealed by the shadows, they watched the burly figure of Amycus Carrow come into view. Carrow looked around the darkened corridor, checking for any signs of prying eyes. Satisfied he was alone, he turned his attention back to the statue blocking the entrance and spoke the password, “Pureblood.” The statue moved to the side to reveal the familiar staircase that would lead to the Headmaster’s office. As soon as Carrow was inside the passageway, the gargoyle shifted back into place. 

The two of them waited in the darkened corner for a few moments before going up to the statue. Snape placed his hand on the statue and muttered the password. Just as with Carrow, the huge gargoyle statue leapt aside. He turned to look at Hermione, bringing one of his fingers to his lips. She nodded in agreement and followed him up the narrow circular staircase. 

“Stay here and keep quiet,” Snape whispered as he pushed her behind some large, flowing drapes. Hermione watched as he ascended the small set of stairs leading up to the newest Headmaster’s desk. Just as Severus came into view, Lucius Malfoy looked up from his parchment, his face even paler than normal. Amycus noticed the sudden change in his demeanor and turned to see what had put Lucius in such a state. 

“Snape,” Amycus hissed, drawing his wand, “not expecting to see you here.”

“How nice to see you as well, Carrow,” Severus spat, each word dripping with animosity. “Do not make me kill you, my friend.”

“You are no friend of mine. You deserted us,” Carrow replied, inching closer and closer. “As I’m sure you know, your little stunt did not sit well with the Dark Lord.”

“Last warning, Carrow. Drop your wand.”

“Or what, Snape? You really going to kill me?” he said with a smile. “You don’t have it in you, do you? You never have.”

“Amycus, that’s enough!” Lucius yelled. “We have orders to bring him in alive.”

“Stay out of this, Malfoy. You’re not much better than good ol’ Sev here.”

Hermione watched from the shadows as the three men stood in the middle of the Headmaster’s office. Their wands were trained on each other, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. Unfortunately, she was too focused on the stalemate to notice the set of hands that forcefully yanked her from her hiding spot.

“Look what I’ve found, boys,” Alecto leered, dragging Hermione into the room. “Looks like Snape has himself a new Mudblood now.”

The three men shifted their focus to the girl struggling to free herself from Alecto’s vice grip. A sick smile appeared on Amycus’s face as he walked over to Hermione, whose arms had been wrenched behind her back by his sister. He placed two fingers under Hermione’s chin and forced her eyes to meet his. “And what a pretty little Mudblood she is. She will make a nice plaything for the Dark Lord. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t test her out before we hand her over. I’m sure she’s fun to play with, isn’t she, Severus?”

Amycus turned to see Snape’s reaction but was met by a wand pointed directly between his eyes. “Instruct your sister to unhand the girl and I might let you leave this room with your lives intact.”

Amycus let out a hearty laugh. “Come on, Snape. You’re outnumbered. Maybe if you get down on your knees and beg, I might ask the Dark Lord to make your death quick.” 

Snape heard footsteps behind him and delivered an elbow to the stomach of Lucius Malfoy before shooting a Stunning Spell at the male Carrow. Amycus hit the stone wall with a loud thud, knocking him unconscious. Snape felt a searing pain across the side of his face that forced him to the floor. He knew at once that the culprit had been the cane of Lucius Malfoy and his suspicions were confirmed when he looked up to see the blond man looking down at him through cold, grey eyes. “Severus, don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be. You have been bested. In a moment, I will call the Dark Lord and you and this Mudblood will both be executed. I will be the one who turned you over to him, and my family will be in his eternal good graces. I’m sorry, Snape. It has to be done.”

Lucius drew his wand and rolled up his sleeve, but before he could touch the wand to the Dark Mark, he was distracted by a cry of pain from Alecto. Hermione had managed to free herself from the Death Eater’s grip by stomping on her foot. She ran toward Lucius and cast a Body-Bind Curse in his direction. Malfoy’s knees locked and he hit the ground with a dull thud. Hermione stood over Lucius’s body, breathing heavily. Snape rubbed the side of his face as he slowly he got to his feet. He raised his head in time to see Alecto lunging at Hermione, but before the words, “look out!” had left his lips, he saw the knife plunge deeply into her ribcage. Hermione’s knees buckled as she yelled in agony. Snape had finally regained the composure that Malfoy’s walking stick had knocked from him. He saw Alecto raise the knife again and begin to thrust it back toward Hermione’s chest. 

“Sectumsempra!” Alecto fell to the ground as lacerations appeared around her throat. Blood poured from her neck and formed a pool around her head. Within seconds, her gurgles had ceased and she lay motionless, dead on the floor of the Headmaster’s office.

Snape turned his attention to Hermione, who lay next to Alecto on the floor. Her breathing was labored and the color had drained from her face, giving her a ghostly pallid hue. He reached down and grabbed the knife, praying that it wasn’t the one Alecto usually preferred for her victims. His heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second when he realized it was. This was Alecto’s favorite toy due to the dark magic that was infused in the blade. It was a gift from the Dark Lord himself, a gift designed to cause the victim unfathomable pain. The pain would start out slight and eventfully intensify to something much like the Cruciatus Curse. The most damning aspect of the knife was the fact that the magic within the blade prevented the coagulation of the blood. If the proper medical attention wasn’t administered within minutes of the assault, there would be no hope. The prey would almost certainly bleed out. 

He had to get her out of there immediately. They would never make it to the Forbidden Forest in time for him to Disapparate the two of them to safety. The only way to save Hermione was to leave the room directly and Lucius Malfoy was the only thing standing in the way. He cast a Warming Charm over the injured girl and went to deal with Lucius. 

Severus grabbed the walking stick and Lucius’s wand before he released him from Hermione’s Body-Bind Curse. “Take down the Anti-Disapparition Jinx,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“You were a fool to come here tonight, Snape,” Lucius said with a laugh. “He will catch you, and when he does, I can only hope he will allow me to be included in the…festivities.”

“Release the Jinx, Lucius, or what follies the Dark Lord allows you to participate will be the least of your worries.” 

“There is nothing you can do to me, Snape.”

Snape swung the cane at Malfoy’s head, striking him across the nose. A loud crunch reverberated around the circular room, signifying the presence of a now broken septum. “Is that so?” Severus inquired through clenched teeth. “Perhaps I should pay your lovely wife a visit. How about that pathetic excuse of a wizard you call a son?”

“You wouldn’t touch them.”

“How easily you forget to whom you are speaking, Lucius,” Snape seethed, each word dripping with more vitriol than ever. “I’ll make sure to tell Narcissa how little you valued her. Draco would make a decent audience for his mother's slaying. Wouldn’t you agree, old friend? One more chance Lucius. Drop. The. Jinx.”

“Fine,” Lucius said in a defeated tone as he waved his hand in an arc motion across the room. The instant Severus felt the Jinx dissipate, he brought his foot up to kick Lucius square in the face. The blond man fell forward, completely unconscious. 

Snape turned and made his way over to Hermione, who was now writhing on the floor in a significant amount of her own blood. He bent down to scoop her into his arms, but she resisted. 

“NO,” she screamed. “Get what you came for, then we can leave!” 

“There isn’t time for that,” he said frantically. “I have to get you out of here.” 

Hermione grabbed the sides of his face with both hands, forcing him to look directly at her. “We are not leaving until you get whatever it is that will help Harry. Now go.”

Snape stood and removed his robes before placing them under her head. He rushed to a large, stone column supporting the archway over the Headmaster’s desk. _“Memorias,”_ he said, placing his hands on the base. The shaft of the column sprang apart, revealing several shelves containing numerous bottles of stored memories. He looked at the labels carefully, selecting the ones he would need. He was nearly finished when a hair-raising scream pierced the silence. He turned to see Hermione shaking violently. The convulsions had already started. He shoved the memories in the pockets of his trousers and ran back to where she lay on the floor. He picked her up, noticing her blood had saturated the black shirt she was wearing.

Through Hermione’s cries of pain, Severus fought hard to concentrate on his desired destination and with a crack the two of them disappeared.

* * *

**  
Author’s Notes:**

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and stay tuned for the next one. As soon as I am finished revising, it will be uploaded for approval.

 _Modo potest revelare_ when translated from Latin to English is “only I can open.”

 _Memorias_ is a Latin translation for “memories.”


	10. Sorrowing Man

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Sorrowing Man 

As soon as his feet touched the floor of his home at Spinner’s End, Severus turned for the stairs leading to the second floor, taking them two at a time. If his calculations were correct, he had about eight minutes to stop the bleeding before it was a lost cause. Once he came to the top of the stairs, he ran full speed to his bedroom that stood at the end of the hall. Kicking the door open, he entered the room where he lay Hermione down on the bed. The Disapparition had knocked her unconscious, so she lay looking utterly lifeless on the dark green quilt. Seven minutes left.

Severus stopped for a moment to collect his bearings. He couldn’t do this without the necessary potions. His mind raced as he tried to determine if he had everything he needed. Blood Replenishing Potion was absolutely necessary and he would need lots of it. Wound-Cleaning Potion was next on the list for obvious reasons. Calming Draught would have to be used to help her in enduring the pain; Dreamless Sleep to keep her sedated; Strengthening Potion to aid her recovery once she woke. This list just kept growing. He hurried to the modest bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and flung open the small medicine cabinet. Nothing but a few phials of Headache Potion. He closed the cabinet with a bang, breaking the mirror it contained in half. Six minutes left. 

Snape stood over the sink, each of his hands clutching the porcelain basin. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror, noticing a smear of blood on each cheek where Hermione had touched him. “THINK DAMNIT,” he yelled at his own reflection. Suddenly it hit him. She still had the bag; the bag that held all of her potions as well as the ones he was able to get from his rooms at Hogwarts. Hopefully there would be enough of what he needed to save her life. Severus scrambled back to the bedroom as quickly as he could. Five minutes left. 

Once he entered the room, he carefully removed the boot from her foot that contained the purple bag. Grabbing it, he opened it, quickly thrusting his entire arm into the bag. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what she had in this bag. Retracting his arm, he set the bag down on the bed and extended his wand over it. Snape cast two Summoning Charms; the first one for Hermione’s bag of potions and the second for his green messenger bag. He turned Hermione’s bag upside down, causing the contents to come clattering out. He picked up each of the bottles carefully, categorizing them into small piles. The last phial he selected was one he had not seen before. He wasn’t sure how he missed it while he examined the contents of the bag earlier that morning. He uncorked the bottle and drank the liquid gold in one gulp, hoping the effects of the Liquid Luck would kick in in time. Four minutes left. 

Severus looked down at the girl, realizing he had to revive her to give her the potions. He couldn’t risk pouring them down her throat, in case she accidentally choked to death. “Miss Granger?” he said, leaning down to her ear. No response. Severus touched his hand to her forehead, she was already going cold. He placed the tip of his wand at her temple, hoping it would bring her back from this. “Rennervate.” 

Hermione’s eyes flew wide open and she coughed violently, sending a sticky spray of warm blood all over his front. Three minutes left. 

“HELP ME,” she pleaded, pulling at her blood soaked shirt.

“Shhhh! You are alright, but you must lay still!”

Hermione never heard him. She lay, thrashing, on his bed gasping for air. “PLEASE…DO…SOMETHING!”

“MISS GRANGER! You have drink this now!” Snape said frenetically, forcing her back down to the mattress. 

Hermione opened her mouth, allowing him to pour in two of the phials of Blood-Replenishing Potion. As soon as she swallowed the contents, she started to convulse furiously. The Cruciatus-like spasms were accelerating her heart rate, causing the blood she had in her system to exit through the laceration. At the rate she was bleeding, he would just be prolonging the inevitable by giving her the potions. He had to close the wound. Rolling her to her side, he ripped her shirt open, revealing the deep puncture wound slightly below her breast. He moved to the bed, straddling her legs to keep her as still as possible. Placing his wand at her side, Severus spoke slowly and deliberately, allowing every syllable of the healing spell to roll of his tongue like a song. Nothing happened. He realized that the curse carried in the blade was impervious to the Vulnera Sanentur Spell. “FUCK!” he screamed, throwing his wand across the room. Running his hands through his hair in desperation, Severus looked at the miserable supply of potions. He knew it was a long shot but he grabbed the half empty bottle of Dittany. Uncorking it, he carefully poured several drops over the wound. Nothing. He brought his hands to his face, trying to block the hell that was happening right in front of him. Hermione Granger was dying and there was nothing he could do. Just when he thought he had lost her, he heard it. He looked down at the bloodied girl, noticing the wound had started to bubble and hiss as the edges of the laceration found each other and fused together, leaving an angry pink scar in its wake.

Pulling her into his lap, Severus poured two more phials of the Blood Replenishing Potion and a Dreamless Sleep Potion down her throat. By the grace of the Felix, he had managed to stabilize her in time. He repaired her torn shirt and cast a wandless Cleansing Charm over her, siphoning the sticky mess from her skin and clothes. Picking her up, he carried her to the spare bedroom across the hall where he laid her down on the clean sheets. Severus couldn’t keep from smiling as he brushed a strand of her unruly hair from her face. He could see she was already showing signs of promise. Hermione no longer looked like a corpse and she was slightly warmer now that she had the correct amount of blood circulating through her system. She would be out for hours thanks to the dose of Dreamless Sleep he had given her, which was a good thing because he didn’t think he could face her yet. 

Closing the door behind him, Severus crossed the hall to deal with the carnage. Stopping in the door, he surveyed the damage to his room. It looked like a scene taken directly from a Muggle horror movie. There was so much red. The coppery smell of blood clouded his senses, forcing him to close his eyes to gather his composure. He wanted no recollection of the events that had transpired in this room. Grabbing his wand from the floor, he vanished the entire bed with a flick of his wrist. Next, he followed the crimson trail leading from his bedroom to the first floor, wiping up the evidence of her trauma. This house was depressing enough without all the gore.

As Snape walked by a mirror hanging above his mantle, he was taken off guard. His reflection was barely recognizable. There were dark bags under his eyes, undoubtedly caused by a lack of sleep and extreme stress. Hermione’s blood covered the front of his jacket. His hair was matted to his forehead by sweat. In short, he was a complete mess. He knew the Charms that would make him look more presentable, but he needed to clear his head. He vanished the remaining droplets of blood from the floor before retiring to his bathroom for some much needed personal time. 

Shedding his soiled clothing, he stepped under the hot jet, allowing the water to wash away all traces of the last twenty four hours. He could feel the muscles in his back and legs loosen as the hot water rolled over his pale skin. This was the closest thing to relaxation he could ever hope to achieve. Severus could also do his best thinking surrounded by the steaming air, which was fitting of course, because he had a lot on his mind.

His thoughts turned to the sleeping girl across the hall. Hermione Granger was like a braided rope tied in a noose around his neck, slowly suffocating him. Severus found it hard to look at her as a student, the more time he was around her. She had saved his life. For that, he felt a certain amount of indebtedness to her, which he hated. He had to free himself from her. He was not a team player. He always worked alone, and he preferred it that way. Alone, he could work faster and was not entangled by having to look out for the wellbeing of someone else. Having her with him would only slow him down and might even get him killed. It was too big of a risk.

Besides, she would be much better off with Potter. He thought once again of the similarities she shared with Lily Evans, the only person he had ever been able to call a friend and mean it. Like Lily, Hermione always seemed to notice the best in people. It was quite annoying. Severus found Harry Potter to be quite insufferable, but Hermione defended him at every juncture – the same way Lily had stood up for her sister, Petunia, who hated Lily for what she was, and the same way she had stood up for Harry’s father. _Yes,_ Severus thought, _she’s much better off with Potter._

*****

Hermione Granger ached. A rotten soreness crept over her as she awoke; her eyes adjusted to the light pouring in through the room’s single window. The muscles along her left side and stomach throbbed as if they were slowly being pulled apart fiber by fiber. She had never felt a pain like this. This seemed to be the beginning of a notoriously deep hurt; something that she would truly never be rid of. She lifted her shirt to examine the cause of her current discomfort. The hole in her ribcage was healed over but looked dreadful. Her abdomen was tinged with a deep purplish color and the scar below her breast was excruciatingly tender. She ran a single finger over the elevated pink scar and regretted it instantly. She threw her head back on the pillow in an act of frustration. Hermione had no idea where she was, and given her current state, there would be no getting out of bed to find out. She looked around the unfamiliar room, noticing the stark furnishings. Apart from the bed she was lying in, there was a small desk in front of the grungy window and an old, threadbare armchair in the corner. By the looks of the room, no one had stepped foot in it for some time. Her eyes continued to scan the room with the hope of finding something that would give her an idea of where she was. Then she saw him. There, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and looking as dour as ever, was her savior. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a bloody nightmare,” she replied with a grimace. 

“Interesting choice of words.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost fifteen hours,” he said, his face still expressionless. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it would be wise to eat anything just yet.”

Snape shifted on his feet. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. For some reason, he felt like she would see right through his farce. This wasn’t really about her safety, this was about his sanity. The small movement didn’t go unnoticed by the girl shuffling timidly on the bed. 

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, trying to prop herself up against the headboard. 

“As soon as you are able, I am taking you to Potter.”

Hermione stalled in her miserable attempt to right herself. She knew where this was going. She had pushed him too far and now was ready to be rid of her. She knew if she left, that he would be alone; alone to face the wrath of the Dark Lord and all of his followers. 

“Where will you go?”

“I have my own mission to deal with, Miss Granger, one I must do alone.”

“Why must you do it alone? What if he finds you? You need someone there to help you!”

“And just what help do you think you would be against the Dark Lord, Miss Granger? You almost got yourself killed at Hogwarts by letting your guard down. You will be safer with Potter. The Dark Lord does not know where he and Weasley are so you will be safe. His attention will be on me for the time being. Trust me, Miss Granger, Potter needs your help far more than I do.”

“Am I so awful that you would rather make yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord than to take me with you?” She spoke not with acrimony, but with grave severity. Hermione’s eyes gave her away, however, as they glistened with tears threatening to break the dam she had tried so hard to construct.

“Don’t make this emotional,” he cautioned austerely, “because whether or not I enjoy your company has nothing to do with this. The Dark Lord must be defeated, and for that to happen, I must go alone and you must go back to your friends. Someone has to be there to lend some level of competence to their mission. You will go tomorrow and that is my final word.” 

“How can you talk to me like this?” 

“What are you going on about?”

“I just skimmed death’s knife-edge to save your life!” she spat. “And yet you stand there claiming you don’t need anyone’s help, when you so clearly displayed evidence to the contrary. What is this really about, Professor Snape? What was the real reason you asked me to go with you?” 

“I needed your help.”

“No you didn’t. Not really,” Hermione scoffed. “I risked my own wellbeing for yours, and you have the audacity to lie right to my face?”

“I never asked that of you!” he bellowed, his hands clenched together in fists at his side. “I had the situation under control. What you did in the Headmaster’s office was foolish and I can’t risk you screwing things up even further.”

“You bastard. Malfoy was ready to call the Dark Lord. We would both be dead now if I hadn’t done what I did. So I don’t buy your pathetic excuses for wanting me gone. So what’s the real reason that you want me to leave? Be honest. I at least deserve that.”

“Because, Miss Granger, I have grown tired of looking out for you. Every time I turn around, there you are. You are suffocating me.” 

Hermione went very still upon hearing his testimony. So there it was. She was suffocating him. That wasn’t the reason she was expecting to hear, but it stung nonetheless. She thrust herself off the bed, only to find her vision blurring from the shock of her abrupt movement. Her side felt like someone had struck her with a white-hot poker fresh from a bed of smoldering coals. Hermione went rigid, a haze unconsciousness threatening to consume her. She would be damned if she let him see her come apart. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow. She had to leave now. Gritting her teeth through the throbbing pain, she grabbed her shoes lying next to the bed and put them on. Hermione finally worked up enough courage to look at Severus. His outline was slightly distorted by her salty tears, but she could tell he was still standing in front of the door, simply staring at her. He didn’t look angry like she expected. If anything, he looked totally apathetic toward the whole situation. It infuriated her. She forced herself to hold her head high despite the fact she was seconds away from crumbling to pieces both mentally and physically. 

“Good-bye, Professor,” she whispered as she brushed past him.

“Miss Granger, wait.”

Hermione stopped, the tears falling from her eyes freely now. She turned only to see her purple bag at the end of his extended arm. She snatched the bag from his hand, giving him nothing but a vengeful glare in return. She didn’t look back as she made her way down the stairs and out the front door. Seconds later, the loud crack signaling Hermione’s Disapparition carried through the old house before finally settling heavily on the shoulders of Severus Snape.

***** 

The moment Hermione felt the hard earth beneath her feet she collapsed to the ground, overcome by a severe fit of sobs. The fact that she had managed to Disapparate to the Forest of Dean without splinching was a miracle because her mind was everywhere but where it should have been. Her side was splitting and her feelings were equally battered. Regardless of how she felt, however, she knew she couldn’t stay where she was. Sitting up, Hermione wiped her tears and looked at the forest surrounding her. Even though she had been here several times before, the woodland seemed to have a certain air of malevolence about it tonight. The setting sun was now a fiery orange semicircle obscured by the inky-black, twisted limbs of the tree tops. The branches reminded her of sickly skeletal hands waiting to claim her once the light faded. Hermione shuddered, the gravity of her current situation finally crashing down on her. She was alone and, in a little less than an hour, she would be swallowed up by the fast-approaching darkness.

In her rush to flee from Snape, Hermione had failed to take into consideration that she had absolutely no plan once she made it to the woods. She had taken the bloody man at his word when he told her he had sent her two friends to this wood. Now, she was questioning her judgment, even though none of it mattered given that she was already here. The large of expanse of wild wilderness would be a sufficient hiding spot for her, at least until she could get a better idea of where Ron and Harry were. Then there was the issue of the darkness. Hermione was utterly useless in the dark, as cliché as that sounded. In the dark, it was harder to practice constant vigilance. The darkness hid all sorts of dangerous creatures, none of which Hermione was in the shape to deal with. In the dark, and especially alone, Hermione’s imagination tortured her. She could already feel the bubble of hysteria floating precariously in her chest, waiting for the chance to rear its ugly head. If she didn’t collect herself soon, the impending night would eat her alive. 

Grabbing her purple bag from the ground beside her, Hermione used her wand to summon a phial of Calming Draught. Uncorking the small bottle, she allowed the sweet, viscous liquid to flow through her body, washing away the trauma. Much to her relief, the pain in her abdomen lessened and her mind, though still slightly in a state of disarray, seemed free from the confrontation she had had with Snape. As long as she could keep her thoughts free from panic, she could cover a considerable amount of ground. 

Hermione’s destination was the River Wye. She, Harry and Ron had placed their tent along a more secluded part of the rivers’ bank. Due to the fact that the three of them had not anticipated being captured when they went into London for supplies, they left it standing. If the boys were going to be anywhere, that would be the place. Hermione had purposefully Apparated away from the camp in case the location was compromised. If her calculations were correct, and she was quite certain they were, she was about seven kilometers south of where she needed to be. There would be no magic after this point unless it was absolutely necessary. It would be too much of a risk. Hermione took a deep breath and began her trek through the forest. 

It was almost midnight and the moon hung high in the sky surrounded by a halo of frost. Unfortunately, its glow could hardly reach the ground, making the forest floor treacherous underfoot. Hermione shivered as she walked, each tremor wrecking havoc on her midsection. She had never been so miserable in her life. She had used the last of the Calming Draught she had a little more than two hours ago. She knew her body was burning through the potion faster than she had anticipated because she could feel her nerve slowly unraveling with each step she took. 

“Focus, Hermione,” she reminded herself. “You are almost there.” 

She picked up the pace, ignoring the burning pain creeping up her legs. Hermione had been walking for hours and even though the landscape was draped in velvety blackness, she could recognize some of her surroundings. She was getting closer. Within minutes, she was there. Or at least, she should have been. There was no camp. No tent. No one. She recognized the charred remains of a fire they had set. She saw the outline of the tent on the ground. But they were gone. Where? She didn’t know. 

She started to panic. Her breathing increased and, with it, the pain in her side. She could hear herself sobbing loudly. Tears were streaming down her face. It was hopeless. She would never find Harry and Ron now. She hadn’t the slightest idea where to look. There was nothing to do except let the sorrow overtake her and melt into the ground. And that she did.

***** 

Severus slouched on the dusty sofa in his darkened living room, staring at front door. Truth be told, he was staring through it rather than at it at this point, willing his mind to transport him somewhere other than his present little corner of Hell. Hermione Granger was gone and had been so for several hours. After all, that was the outcome he wanted, wasn’t it? 

His mind returned to the conversation he had with her before she finally walked away from him. Severus had been cruel to her, knowing full well that was the only thing that would get her to leave without much of a fight. He had lied to her outright. He had no mission. His only task in this whole sodding business was thwarted when he so foolishly allowed himself to be found out. Why did he have to be so cold and unfeeling all the time? Why couldn’t he admit to himself that he actually enjoyed the company of others? Why did he have to drive away everyone he cared about? This last thought made him sit straight up. Is that what had happened? Had he, despite his best efforts, grown to care for the girl who he had long considered a thorn in his side?

He stood up and walked over to a table in the corner of the room. He grabbed a glass and reached for the bottle of Firewhisky sitting beside it when something within himself stopped him. A feeling of absolute conviction nearly brought him to his knees. He had to see her again, regardless of how pathetic it made him feel. No matter how much he tried to fight it, Hermione Granger was _something_ to him, bound to him by some invisible force. A guttural growl escaped his lips as he grabbed his cloak from its hook. He didn’t know whether he hated himself more for forcing her to leave or for going after her. At this point, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had to make things right. He pulled on his cloak, stepped through the doorway, and shut it with a bang behind him.

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

_As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated! Also, a special thanks to those of you who continue to read this obsession of mine. **All of you, without any doubt, make my day.**_


	11. Reunion

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

Reunion 

A thick, choking fog settled over the forest like a blanket, making it impossible to see the ground from the air. It was the kind of fog that could make the most open of places seem closed off and downright claustrophobic. Given the way the mass stirred, it appeared to be a living, breathing, and immensely sinister creature. The swirling gray mist taunted him, calling to him like some wild siren to come within its grasp, so that he too could be swallowed up by it. He loathed it for the simple reason that it concealed from him what he was desperately seeking to find. He edged closer to the rolling haze, just skimming its satiny surface. He could feel the dampness settling on his wind-tousled hair and jacket, chilling him to his core. He didn’t care. If anything, this was the punishment he deserved and he would endure it until he found her. He had been searching the forest for hours, but saw nothing. There were no traces, magical or otherwise, of Hermione. Severus toyed with the notion that she didn’t want to be found, least of all by him. 

The trip from Cokeworth to the Forest of Dean had provided him with ample time to think. As Severus flew silently over the frost covered rolling hills and the various slumbering villages nestled between them, he examined the man that he had become. Years of toiling for Voldemort had hardened him. Of course, given the nature of the terrible crimes he committed against Wizards and Muggles alike, he had little choice in the matter. He considered that, at some point along the way, he had lost some, if not all, of his humanity. That was never his intention, obviously, when he so foolishly bought into Tom Riddle’s maniacal ideas. He went to him seeking, above all else, acceptance. Of course, the power and glory appealed to him as well, but not nearly as much as having a place where he fit. 

His childhood, if it could even be considered that, had been wretched. His mother, while loving in her own weak way, never really seemed to be interested in him. Severus felt, on more than one occasion, that his mother resented him because he had what she would never have, a chance to escape. Eileen Prince was merely his mother because that was the role that had been forced upon her by his pathetic excuse of a father. Tobias Snape was an oppressive, drunken bastard. He choked the life from everything and Severus hated him for it. His father controlled every aspect of his life and his mother’s. He was an alcoholic and verbally abused his mother. He flat-out refused to have anything to do with Severus when he was a child. The sodding man appeared to find delight in disappointing people and cutting them down. A trait, Severus noticed that he had unfortunately inherited from his old man. The day he received his Hogwarts letter was the day he realized he could break away from from his neglectful mother, his frightening father, and everything about his home life he despised. 

Hogwarts, unfortunately, wasn’t what Severus imagined it to be either. Apart from Lily Evans, he had no one to call a friend. He was a socially awkward child, but he was eager to please. Most of all, however, he wanted to prove his worth. Severus dove head first into his studies and excelled. This drive had the opposite effect of what he had hoped to achieve. His intelligence seemed to sequester him even further from the student population. It also made him a target for the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black. They were everything he wanted to be: popular, athletic and well-liked. He was ridiculed daily and it drove him to turn to the Dark Arts for retribution. It was a piss-poor excuse in hindsight, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about that now. His interest in the Dark Arts would prove too much for his relationship with Lily. He eventually pushed away the only person who cared for him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was partially responsible for her death at the Dark Lord’s hand. 

Severus finally came to the conclusion that he did not belong; that he had never belonged. In his mind, and as ridiculous as it sounded, there were two types of people, those who were sullied and those who fell in the middle of good and bad. He didn’t fit in any of those categories. He didn’t exist, in a sense, not anymore. He had a body, just like everyone else and he could feel pain when it found him just as he could also feel the occasional pleasures in life like the sunshine caressing his face on a warm summer day. He had all of the senses, all of the functions, everything that made him human, but he was just empty inside. There was nothing left but a bitter, calloused hull of a man, who had been aged well beyond his years by two equally manipulative masters and a less than glamorous past. 

Much to his chagrin, something within Severus seemed to have come to life over the last few days. He would have liked to have blamed it on the fact that he was essentially free for the first time in his life. That wasn’t the real reason, of course, and he couldn’t deny that any more than he could deny he was a wizard. No, the real reason for his current state was somewhere alone in the godforsaken forest below him, or at least he hoped she was. Hermione Granger deserved an explanation, though Severus wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her when and if he found her. The fuzzy-haired, highly insufferable, little swot from his tenure at Hogwarts seemed to be a fragment of the young woman he had come to care for. That was another thing that stumped him completely. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that drew him in. He did know, with absolute certainty, that he was never turning her away once he found her. If Hermione Granger walked away from him again, she would do it on her own accord. 

****

***** 

Hermione woke—or was awakened—very abruptly. She stared out into the blackness enveloping the woods. The darkness seemed to have been intensified by the thick haze hovering ominously overhead. Exhaustion and anxiety had obviously claimed her sometime during the early morning hours and she went with them willingly. She did not anticipate, however, that she would have slept so soundly on the raw, unforgiving ground. Hermione noted that the forest was very quiet, very still and she secretly wondered why she had awoken. Then, she heard it. It was a soft noise, barely audible above the gentle lapping of the nearby water on the river’s bank. Had she not been listening intently, she would have never caught it. It was a subtle rustling of the leaves on the forest floor, the sound of tiny twigs snapping and twisting as if they were being trampled underfoot. This wasn’t natural like the night wind sweeping through the trees or some nocturnal beast meandering about. This was deliberate. This was calculated. 

The pain in her ribs made stifling her labored breath difficult but she tried her best to remain silent. She listened closely. The sound was making its way closer to her, but was moving slowly. She argued with herself whether she should stay put or try to get away from whatever was producing the sound. Maybe it would pass, she thought. The sound bearing down on her made her dismiss this thought quickly. Her shaking knees made it especially difficult to stand. She had to get somewhere where she wouldn’t be found by whatever was making that noise. Her injury eliminated the option of trying to run. She had to hide. She made her way slowly through the forest, looking for somewhere to conceal herself. She saw a fallen tree about fifty meters in front of her. Wincing in pain, she tried to increase her pace. 

The sound grew louder and was now coupled by a chilling wind that made the hairs on the back of her neck bristle. She had to make it to the tree. Thirty meters to go and the sound was growing louder. It was unmistakable now. Footsteps. She was being followed. She looked around and saw the dark silhouette of a large man against the moonlight. He was ten meters behind her. She turned to face him. The man stopped. “Who are you? Why are you following me?” She was surprised at how her voice trembled. The man gave no response. “Who are you?!” She turned and tried her best to put distance between herself and her pursuer. Probably due as much to her fear as to the weakness caused by her injury, she stumbled and fell to the ground. She heard the man’s footsteps. He was standing over her. Fear pulsed through her veins. “Please! Whoever you are, I don’t mean you any harm. Please, don’t kill me.” 

“Kill you? Miss Granger, surely you know that if I haven’t killed you by now, I have no interest in doing so. But I must insist that you keep quiet because there are some in these woods who would jump at the chance to do so…to both of us.”

Hermione brought her hands to her mouth to keep from crying out. Of all the people she expected to come across in the woods at three in the morning, Severus Snape wasn’t one of them. The fear in her body turned to ire. Forgetting her discomfort entirely, she flung herself off the ground and at Snape. “You have no right!” Hermione managed through her tears as she shoved him backwards. “You have NO right, damn you!” Hermione made to shove him again, but Severus caught her hands in his and with a swift motion spun her around, wrenching her arms securely behind her back. 

“We. Are. Not. Alone,” he whispered in her ear as she fought against his firm grip. Hermione froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing up, though she couldn’t tell if the reaction was from his hot breath on her skin or the revelation he had just made. 

“How right ya’ are, Snape,” a raspy voice called from the abyss in front of them. Severus pulled Hermione behind him, pushing her up against a tree in an effort to shield her with his body. The two of them watched as a tall man emerged from the shadows, flanked by a gigantic, brooding fellow on his left and two normal-sized individuals on his right. Severus recognized the motley crew at once. They were Snatchers and a superior lot at that. 

Scabior was a gangly man with ratty, dreadlocked hair and washed out eyes. He had a crushing sense of confidence that rolled from him in waves. He had good reason. Scabior was one of the Ministry’s most effect bounty hunters against those who had committed the so called blood crimes against wizardkind. It was obvious why Voldemort recruited him. He found those who, above all else, wished to stay hidden. The man beside him was unmistakable. There was no denying Fenrir Greyback. Greyback was bestial in appearance and rightfully so considering the monster that he was. The near-wolf was close to two meters in height, with jagged teeth and black eyes. When he didn’t kill, Greyback passed to his victims a fate much worse than death. 

The two other men Severus wasn’t entirely familiar with, but knew them by name, as he taught both of them at Hogwarts. The ashy blond, Hadrian Corbett, was the typical Pureblood supremacist looking for glory. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, but not nearly as much as taking down those who were foolish enough to resist or run. Hadrian was always searching for a weakness, trying to gain the advantage, and by the look he had in his eye, he was already sizing up his competition. Corbett also had a reputation. He was responsible for a considerable number of deaths, second only to Greyback of course. The smaller man was Micheas Ignavus. He made Peter Pettigrew look like a bloody noble. Unlike, Corbett, it was obvious Ignavus sought the monetary gain of such a job rather than the fame. He was a quiet man with sunken eyes and a hollow expression. Given his demeanor, he was not new to death and had become quite indifferent to it. 

“We’ve been searchin’ all over for that one, we have. Slick little Mudblood, she is.” Scabior winked at Hermione before he flashed Severus a sinister grin. “Wasn’t expecting to find a snake, though, was we, fellas?” 

A howling laughter pierced the silence. Fenrir stepped forward, his wand trained on Severus. Snape remained unflappable. “Well, well. I suppose the Dark Lord must be desperate to find me if he is sending his dog on the hunt as well.”

“You won’t be such a smooth talker after I rip out your throat, Snape. Of course, that will have to wait until I’m finished with her.” He nodded toward Hermione with a demented smile on his lips. “A shame to mess up a pretty face, but at least her looks will reflect the filth running through her veins.”

“You won’t lay a hand on the girl, Greyback. If you and your band of misfits leave now, I will allow you to tuck your tail between your legs and explain your failure to the Dark Lord. Take one step toward her, and I can’t promise you’ll live to tell about it.”

“That’s big talk for man outnumbered four to one,” Scabior interjected. “From the looks of things, your little Mudblood girlfriend won’t be able to help you much. Looks like Alecto’s blade did quite a number on ‘er, didn’t it? I just wish I could have been there to hear ‘er scream.” 

Snape and Hermione both drew their wands and pointed them at the group of Snatchers. The Snatchers erupted with laughter. Corbett’s face turned solemn before addressing Severus and Hermione. “So that’s how it’s going to be, traitor? Very well, if you don’t want to go quietly, we’re more than happy to oblige your request to die.”

Greyback was the first to move. He lunged at Hermione but was plucked from midair and hurled into a nearby tree by a Knockback Jinx from Snape’s wand. Before Snape could refocus his attention on the rest of the group, he found himself incapable of movement. He had been hit by a Full Body-Bind Curse. He could hear the whoops and jeers from the group of Snatchers as they surrounded Hermione. She was doubled over in pain, but kept her wand at the ready. Her resolve impressed Snape as he realized that she was going to fight, even in her depleted state, but he was filled with pity because he knew that she was no match for three Snatchers on her own in her current condition. 

The three men circled her, shouting slurs and threatening to commit unspeakable acts. Ignavus started toward Hermione, but she was able to send him soaring backwards through the air with a Knockback Jinx. She turned to face Corbett, who had made a sudden move for her. “Some fight left in you then?” He drew his wand and mocked her by bending low in an exaggerated bow before pointing his wand at her.

Before Hermione could cast a spell in Corbett’s direction, a yell came from her left side. “Expelliarmus!” Hermione watched her wand fly out of her hand and into Scabior’s. “Now, now, Mudblood. I guess ol’ Snape ‘ere hasn’t taught you to never turn your back on someone that’s trying to kill you.” Suddenly, Hermione was knocked to the ground. The pain in her side told her that she had not been Jinxed, but had been struck. As she looked up, she saw Corbett standing over her, a demented grin on his face. He had taken advantage of her injury and punched her in the ribcage. Scabior walked over to Snape, who was still petrified. “Well, ol’ chap, you know what happens next. Enjoy the show.” He placed Hermione’s wand in Snape’s jacket pocket. “Hold on to that for me, will ya?” Scabior walked over to Hermione and pointed his wand directly at her face. “Move a muscle, Mudblood, and it’s the end of ya.”

Snape looked on, powerless to stop the atrocity that was about to be committed. Had he been able to move, he would have kicked himself for allowing himself to let his guard down. It was his own carelessness that had caused Hermione to be in this position. He tried to will himself free from the Jinx, but it was no use. His head had been turned and Scabior had been able to hit him with the full force of it. He wished that his eyes had at least been closed when the curse hit him so that he would not have to watch the events that were about to transpire.

Corbett bent down so that his mouth was right next to Hermione’s ear. “I’m going to enjoy this, Mudblood. It’s all your filthy kind is good for.” He struck her face with the back of his hand. He viciously ripped open her shirt, exposing her flesh to him. He ran his fingers over her wound. “Alecto got you pretty good, didn’t she, Filth?” Hermione shuddered with disgust as Corbett’s tongue followed the line of her scar. He stood up long enough to unzip her pants and rip them from her body. His hands made their way to her knickers and he grasped them, about to tear them violently from her. Tears rolled down Hermione’s face as her feet flailed, trying to fend him off. A foot connected with his face. “You’ll pay for that, Mudblood.” Rage filled his eyes as he flung his body roughly on top of hers. She cried out, but refused to beg. 

Hermione saw out of the corner of her eye Scabior flying backward. Both she and Corbett looked toward the source of the Jinx. She couldn’t see him, but she heard Ron’s voice screaming, “Get off of her, you bloody bastard!” Corbett stood up to meet his attackers. His back was to Hermione when she noticed her beaded bag lying next to her. Without thinking, she reached in the bag and retrieved the Sword of Gryffindor. She grasped the sword with both hands, stood up, and plunged it into Corbett’s back. As Corbett fell to his knees, gurgling for air, she saw Harry and Ron appear from the tree line. Ron came to check on Hermione as Harry sent curses toward Greyback, Scabior, and Ignavus. Apparently, the Snatchers had no interest in fighting now that the numbers had been evened. The three of them Disapparated and left Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Snape there with Corbett’s corpse.

Hermione looked up at Ron, tears still in her eyes. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Ron handed Hermione her pants and turned away as she dressed herself. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” she began, pulling a new shirt from her bag. “No real harm done. At least…not physically. Hey, where did you two get wands?”

“Harry packed a couple of spares. They’re not so good as our others, but they’ll do in a pinch.” He turned his attention toward Snape, who still stood motionless. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I wish we had never left our campsite. We figured Snape had killed you already. How did you manage to freeze him?”

“I didn’t do that. Scabior did.”

“What?” Harry had joined them. “Why would Scabior petrify Snape?” 

“Because, Harry, he’s on our side. He always was.”

Ron interjected. “Hermione! Don’t you remember what the bastard did to you at Malfoy Manor? He was about to rape you before me and Harry disappeared!” 

“No he wasn’t, Ron. He was trying to distract the Dark Lord. Haven’t you two wondered just how in the world you disappeared?”

“Yes, we have,” Harry said. “We’ve racked our brains trying to figure it out.” 

“Well, Harry, I know you won’t believe me, but it was Snape. If you promise not to hex him, I’ll unfreeze him and let him tell you himself.” Harry and Ron exchanged apprehensive looks. This had the potential to go south very quickly. “Well, do I have your word or not?” Hermione asked with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“I don’t know about this, Hermione,” Ron said wirily. “This could be a trick.”

“Honestly, Ronald. How could this be a trick?”

“Ron’s right, Hermione. This isn’t a good idea.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It is a perfectly good idea. You want the truth and he has it. Plus, I’m not leaving him like that.” 

Harry moved between Hermione and Snape. The air around him crackled with magic. “He killed him, Hermione. He killed Dumbledore! I am not about to let him walk free!” 

“Don’t be dull, Harry. There is more to it than that. Now, let me pass.” Hermione shoved past him and walked purposefully toward the frozen man. 

“Hermione, Stop!” Hermione turned around to see Harry’s wand pointed in her face. “You are not letting him go.” 

“Easy, mate,” Ron cautioned. “There is no need to get all bent out of shape over this. Maybe ‘Mione is right. Just see what he has to say.” 

“NO!” 

“Harry Potter, look at me!” Hermione shrieked. “Have I ever told you wrong before? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” 

“You know nothing about him, Hermione. You didn’t see the way he murdered him, even after Dumbledore begged. He is nothing but a traitor.” 

“I know nothing of him, you say? Well allow me to educate you, Harry. I know Snape was tortured after you and Ron were sent here. You know why? Because he gave you a Portkey. Go on, turn out your pockets.”

“There is nothing in my pocket,” Harry snapped as he ran his free hand over the front of his jacket. Fuming, Hermione stomped over to where he stood and thrust her hand in the left pocket. She pulled out the silver paperclip and held it up to his face. 

“Really? What would you call this, then?” 

Harry paled, lowering his wand. “I…I don’t kn-”

“Shut up,” she interrupted. “I’m not finished with you. You want to know what else I know? I know that Snape is no longer Headmaster. That post now belongs to Lucius Malfoy. I know that because I went with Snape to Hogwarts to warn Professor McGonagall. I saw him with my own two eyes, right before Alecto Carrow nearly killed me. She would have succeeded had it not been for Professor Snape.”

“You mean you’ve been with Snape all this time?” Ron asked, clearly boggled. 

Hermione turned to Ron. “Yes, I have been with him for the last two days.” 

“Bloody hell. All this time we thought he did you in.” 

“Yes, well he has done the exact opposite, actually. He has been discovered by the Dark Lord. He is being hunted just like the rest of us, maybe even more so given the nature of his offence.” Hermione turned to look at Harry directly. “Harry, I don’t know what you saw on the Astronomy Tower, but there is more to it than you realize, I am sure of it. I am asking you to look past that, and listen for once. Set aside your prejudice for a few moments. Please. ”

Harry ran his hand through his disheveled hair. He looked ill. Hermione had presented a fair argument in Snape’s favor and had even produced the device that saved their lives. He finally shook his head and pointed his wand at Snape. “Finite.”

As soon as Severus was free from the hex, he stalked up to Harry and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He lowered his face, so that he and Harry were eye to eye. “I had better never see your wand turned on her again, Potter. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, _Sir_.”

He released Harry’s shirt and turned to Hermione, eyeing her carefully. “Are you alright, Miss Granger? Did he hurt you?” Severus said, nodding in Corbett's direction.

“I am well enough, Professor Snape. More harm came to him, than it did me,” she said, turning to look at the dead Snatcher. “Do you know who that man is? I have never seen him before.”

Severus walked over to the man lying face down on the ground. The sword of Gryffindor was still lodged securely in his back. Snape pulled the sword from the Corbett's torso before driving it into the ground to remove all traces of his blood. “His name is Hadrian Corbett. He was a former student of mine. A Pureblood. The Dark Lord spoke of him often.” 

“Was he a Death Eater?” Ron asked.

“No, Mr. Weasley. He was not. Though, I have no doubt that his ultimate goal was to take the Mark.”

Severus walked over to Hermione, handing her the relic and her wand. “Keep the sword safe. It must not be seen.” Hermione sheathed her wand and placed the sword back in her bag. “We cannot stay here. They will reassemble and return.” 

“We have a camp set up not far from here,” Ron offered, pointing into the tree line. “It’s a bit of a walk, though.” 

“That isn’t good enough. We need to get out of the forest completely. Miss Granger, are you able to Disapparate to the safe house?” Both of the boys gaped at Snape. The fact that he was being civil was nearly as frightening as his ability to intimidate. 

“What safe house?” Harry questioned. He didn’t like to be left out of the loop and he certainly didn’t like to follow the orders of the man he was convinced was a traitor. 

“I believe so, yes,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“Then that is where we shall go.”

“Wait a minute, now. What bloody safe house is he talking about, Hermione? We can’t go to Grimmauld Place, the Ministry knows about it.” 

“Harry, just trust him please.” Hermione reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm. “Professor, I don’t know if I can get the both of them there in one piece.”

“I’ll take Weasley if you can manage Potter,” Snape said with a sneer. 

“Fair enough, Professor. I’ll see you there.” 

Hermione tightened her grip on Harry’s arm and closed her eyes. With a thunderous crack, the two of them vanished. Severus looked over at Ron, who was looking ill at ease. “Take my arm, Mr. Weasley,” he drawled lazily. “Do not let go because I do not have time to put you back together should you Splinch.” Ron grimaced but complied. With a loud pop, the unlikely duo disappeared.

* * *

Author’s Notes: 

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks to all for reading and I hope you all enjoy.


	12. The Beginning of Truth

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The Beginning of Truth 

Severus and Ron appeared in the sitting room of Hermione’s grandmother’s estate. They were not, however, expecting to see the sight that greeted them. Harry was moving anxiously over Hermione, who lie motionless on the floor. The loud pop signaling Snape and Ron’s arrival caused Harry to jump out of his nervous reverie. He whipped around to face the two men, his face ashen and covered with sweat. “I...I don’t know what happened to her! She was fine when we got here, then she said something about feeling lightheaded.” Snape crossed the distance between them with two strides. He dropped to his knees next to Harry, placing his hand on her forehead. He couldn’t see any signs of trauma right off, but had an idea of what caused her spell.

“How long has she been like this, Potter?” 

“I-I don’t know, maybe a minute or two. I tried to get her to sit down, but she said she was alright. I turned my back to her for a second and the next thing I know, she’d fainted to the floor.” 

“She is exhausted and in a considerable amount of shock, I would imagine. The Apparition has most likely drained her. Other than that, your friend is fine, but she needs rest.”

Harry glared at him. “That’s it? You’re not going to do anything for her?”

“There is nothing I can give her, Potter,” Severus growled, as he continued to check her over. He took hold of the end of her shirt, lifting it slowly up her body. A horror-struck gasp came from behind him. Ron Weasley had just taken in the sight of her, obviously taken aback by what he saw. Hermione’s stomach was still a sickly blue and black color. The edges of the bruise looked to be fading, but she still had a long way to go. The scar looked as angry as ever. It was about seven centimeters long and bright red. From a distance, he was sure it looked like a bleeding, gaping wound. Severus had never encountered anyone who lived to tell the tale of Alecto’s knife. He knew the effects of the blade but nothing of the complications that might follow should the person actually survive. Severus raised his wand over her, casting a series of Diagnostic Spells. Nothing seemed amiss. 

Harry rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake himself from this nightmare. “What happened to her?”

Snape carefully lowered her shirt back down her body. “Alecto Carrow happened to her. She was the owner of a dark magical artifact; a gift from the Dark Lord himself. She used it freely, as you can see.”

“What sort of artifact?” Harry asked.

“A knife, a knife created to cause unfathomable pain and death. The blade contains a curse designed to kill. Your friend is very lucky to have survived considering she and I were wearing most of her blood.”

Ron’s face twisted with revenge as he stepped closer to Severus and Harry. “You said Carrow _was_ the owner? I take it she is not anymore. Do you have it now?” 

“No, Mr. Weasley. I have no desire to own such a thing. I was simply implying that the Carrow woman is no longer among the living, and therefore does not own it.”

Severus gathered the girl in his arms, stood and turned for the bedroom down the hall. Ron and Harry followed, but at a distance behind him. Severus could hear the two of them discussing what to do. Harry bloody Potter was, of course, ranting on about trust and some other nonsense. 

“I don’t like this Ron,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t care what you like, Harry. We have no choice.” 

“We have to leave the first chance we get.” 

Ron stopped walking and looked directly at Harry. “What about Hermione? You just want to leave her again?” 

“That’s up to her. If she wants to trust him that’s her business. I want no part of it.”

Ron shoved Harry up against the wall and looked at him with disgusted face. “Listen to yourself! This isn’t just about you anymore, mate. We are all in this together.” 

“I don’t trust him,” Harry said, the ire rising in his voice. “That git isn’t telling us everything. I don’t care what Hermione says.” 

“How enlightening, Potter.” Both boys looked toward the end of the hall, finding Snape standing in the doorway, his arms crossed with disdain. “You know, you really should lower your voices if you’re going to talk about someone within earshot. Not that you would care, but some consider it rude to talk about someone behind their backs.”

“I don’t mind saying it to your face, _Professor_. I was there when you killed Dumbledore, or have you forgotten about that? I’ve seen what you are, what you’ve done, and I’ve seen nothing to change my mind about you.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Potter, I plan to set your mind at ease. I just wanted to make sure your friend was as comfortable as possible first.” Snape motioned down the hallway. “Come with me, gentleman. It’s time the both of you learned the truth.”

The boys moved apart to allow Snape to move past them. When he had disappeared into the sitting room, Ron turned to Harry one last time. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Thanks, Ron. That makes me feel loads better,” Harry said mockingly. He moved past Ron roughly knocking him hard with his shoulder. Ron simply shook his head as he watched his best friend sulk down the hall and out of sight. This was going to be a dreadfully long night.

*********

Harry and Ron entered the sitting room to find Snape gazing into the now roaring fireplace. His hands were propped up on the mantle and he just leaned there, unmoving and seemingly unaware that he had an audience. He was obviously deep in thought. The two young men stood silently for quite some time before Ron nudged Harry on the arm. Harry understood the meaning and was the first to break the silence. “So, where are we?”

Severus stood straighter but continued to look into the flames. “This house belongs to Miss Granger. I believe she mentioned at one point that it was her grandmother's, who is now deceased.” 

Harry started to move closer to Severus but stopped in the middle of the room, looking all the more agitated. “Why has she never mentioned this place?” 

“That would defeat the purpose of it being a safe house, Mr. Potter,” Severus replied coolly as he finally turned around to face the two of them. 

“Yet, she told _you_.” The betrayal in his voice was obvious. 

“I fail to see the point you are trying to make, but yes, Miss Granger did tell me. In fact, she brought me here herself. ” 

“The blasted point I am trying to make is why! What does she see in you that I cannot?!”

“Miss Granger is able to perceive because she does not have a wall of hatred and scorn clouding her vision. She is able to see because it was never meant for her to be misled. You on the other hand, all you see is what others wanted you to notice. You fail to see the truth shrouded amongst the lies. That was the way it was supposed to be, the way it had to be.”

Harry took an abrupt step toward Snape, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. Ron made an attempt to catch him by the arm, but Harry shoved him off. “So you think I have been misled, then? I suppose you’re going to tell me this was the plan all along? Harry Potter, the great bumbling idiot, wouldn’t know the truth if it whacked him upside head, is that right!?” 

“YES, Potter!” Snape roared. “That was the plan all along! You have been deceived by the very man whose honor you are trying so desperately to defend.”

“I don’t believe that for a second! Dumbledore would never lie to me. He had no reason to lie to me!”

“Albus Dumbledore played you for a fool! That is an absolute fact whether you chose to believe it or not.” 

“There is nothing you can say to me that will _ever_ get me to change my opinion of Professor Dumbledore. He was ten times the wizard and the man you will ever be!” 

Severus had to turn away from the ridiculous boy or he would have done something he would have come to regret later. They had reached an impasse. Harry wasn’t about to budge and Severus was running out of what little patience he possessed. His mind wondered to the memories in his pocket. They had belonged to Albus. The old wizard had carefully extracted those particular memories before his death for this very reason. The boy could only go on so long before the truth had to be revealed. Before his death, Albus had also given Severus strict instructions regarding the memories. He was, under no circumstances, supposed to show Harry until Voldemort was most vulnerable. Unfortunately, the abrupt change of events had left him with no other option. Harry had to face the truth. 

Severus pulled the bottles from his pocket, rolling them carefully between his fingers. “If there is nothing I can say to you, Potter, then I’ll just have to show you.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about these,” Severus said, tossing one of the bottles in Harry’s direction. “If you won’t believe me, then perhaps you’ll believe Albus. That bottle you are holding contains a memory; a memory Albus selected himself for you to see.” 

“How am I supposed to view it, then?” Harry scoffed. “I guess you have a Pensieve in your bloody pocket as well?” 

Severus was on the Boy Who Lived as soon as the words left his lips. Snape had tackled him, knocking him to the floor. Severus had managed to wrestle Harry’s wand from him and threw it at Ron Weasley’s feet. “Keep an eye on that Weasley. Potter doesn’t need it at the present time.” 

Harry looked up to Ron, his eyes wide with dismay. “Don’t just stand there! HELP ME!”

Ron picked up Harry’s wand, looked at Snape, then his friend. He didn’t know why, but something he couldn’t quite place told him to stay put. “Harry,” he said sympathetically, “just do as he says.” 

“Your friend is right, as surprising as that sounds. It’s about time you grow the fuck up, Potter,” Severus seethed, each word dripping with bitterness. “The entire Wizarding World is depending on you and in order for you to succeed, you must learn the truth.” 

Severus yanked Harry up off the floor and hurled him into an armchair sitting close by. “We can do this the hard way or we can do it my way. Either way, you will see what I have to show you.”

Harry threw both his hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Alright, fine. Show me.”

“This will hurt,” Severus said flatly as he unscrewed a lid from the bottle. “Memories belonging to another are not meant to be placed in the mind of someone else. As I do not have a Pensieve in my pocket, as you so astutely pointed out, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“So, you are just going put that stuff in my head?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“How will you know if I look at it?”

“I’m going to force you to view it. As soon as the memory is in your head, I will use Legilimency to call it up to the forefront of your mind.” 

“Can’t you just take me at my word that I looked at it? I don’t want you rummaging around in my head.”

“Believe me, Potter, I have no desire to be inside your head, but it is nonnegotiable. Besides, there are certain events that must be explained to you as you see them. I won’t be able to do that unless I can see what you are seeing.” 

Harry slumped in the musty chair, staring at the floor. He would have rather faced Lord Voldemort himself than have Severus Snape parading around inside his head. Harry knew, however, that he had little choice in the matter. He released a raged breath and looked into Snape’s piercing dark eyes. “What do I have to do?”

Severus summoned a chair from the kitchen table, placing it in front of the seat Harry currently occupied. “Do not fight the intrusion,” he said, while he positioned himself on the edge of the wooden chair. “You must open your mind completely, I will do the rest.”

Harry watched as Snape removed the lid of the bottle and retrieved the memory it contained with the tip of his wand. “Prepare yourself, this will be unpleasant.” Severus carefully placed the end of the wispy strand on Harry’s forehead and slowly drove it in. 

To be fair, unpleasant wasn’t the word Harry would have chosen to describe the exercise taking place. It was absolutely excruciating. He threw his head into the back of the chair with a groan. His mind fought furiously against the foreign substance, desperately trying to purge the unwanted intruder. It was no use because Snape was merciless in his attempt. The harder he pushed the memory into Harry’s head, the more he could feel Harry’s mind setting up a blockade after blockade in defense.

“Now is not the time to Occlude,” Snape warned sternly. “Empty your head. It is the only way.”

“I’m trying!”

“No, you’re not. Not hard enough!”

Harry tried to calm his breathing. Closing his eyes, he began concentrating on each breath he took, counting the seconds until he could release it for another. Suddenly, it was like something inside his head snapped. The floodgates had been destroyed and the crushing torrent of Dumbledore’s memory washed over his senses. Harry opened his eyes found himself on a hilltop overlooking Hogwarts. He saw Dumbledore appear suddenly. He realized that Snape was there waiting for him. Harry turned around and saw Snape walking toward the place where he and Dumbledore stood. _“When is this,”_ he asked the voice inside his head.

_“This takes place in 1981. You are approximately a year old.”_

_“I know how old I am.”_

_“The less you interrupt, the sooner this will be over, Potter. Now, shut up and pay attention.”_

Harry turned his attention to the two former Headmasters and listened to their conversation. He listened as Snape explained to Dumbledore how he had informed Voldemort of the prophecy he had overheard. Snape pleaded with Dumbledore to keep Lily safe because Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy to refer to Harry and had planned to hunt down and kill the Potters. Dumbledore’s expression was concerned but revealed a hint of skepticism as to Snape’s motivations. 

_“And if I do this, what will you give me in return, Severus?”_

Snape looked at him with eyes overflowing with fear. _“Anything.”_

Harry felt the pain in his head intensify as the memory slipped away from him. _“What is going on?”_

_“We are going to another part of this memory. It takes place inside Dumbledore’s office after Voldemort has killed your parents. The pain won’t be quite so bad in a moment.”_

Harry found himself in Dumbledore’s office. Snape was sitting in a chair, sobbing uncontrollably. Finally, he began questioning the Headmaster as to why he had failed to protect the Potters. Dumbledore offered an explanation, that Harry’s parents had put their faith in the wrong person. Harry knew he meant Peter Pettigrew, although he was unsure if Dumbledore himself knew who he was referring to at the time. Dumbledore’s explanation did little to quell Snape’s sorrow. Harry listened as Dumbledore informed Snape that he, Harry, had lived. Dumbledore asked Snape to protect Harry as a tribute to Lily. Snape balked at the idea. _“The Dark Lord is gone, he doesn’t need protecting,”_ he heard Snape say through the sobs. 

Harry saw the calculation in Dumbledore’s eyes before addressing Snape again. _“He has her eyes, Severus. Exactly her eyes. If you ever really loved Lily, please…help me protect her son.”_

Snape looked at Dumbledore, tears streaming down his face. _“No one must know. Give me your word, Albus. No one must know.”_

_“If you insist, Severus…then I shall never reveal the best of you.”_

Harry’s eyes opened. He was back in the safe house. Snape was drawing the memory out of his head and returning it to the bottle. He could tell that Snape was purposely avoiding looking him in the eye. “Well, I don’t know what that proves! You still murdered him, and what you have shown me doesn’t change that!”

“If you would shut your constantly flapping mouth, Potter, I will get to that part!” Snape replaced the lid to the bottle then set it on the floor by his feet. He retrieved another bottle from his lap and carefully removed the lid. “This will explain why I did what I did, Mr. Potter. I know you wouldn’t believe me, so I’m showing you straight from the old man’s mind.” Snape repeated the same process he used with the first memory. This one didn’t hurt any less.

Harry found himself once again in Dumbledore’s office. He noticed that Dumbledore’s hand bore the blackness of the curse that infected it after he destroyed one of the Horcruxes – a ring that had belonged to Voldemort’s grandfather. Snape offered Dumbledore a potion and Dumbledore accepted. Harry listened to the conversation. Snape told Dumbledore that the curse would spread to the rest of his body and that the old wizard would be dead within a year.

_“Pay particular attention here, Mr. Potter. You are about to learn the truth behind the ‘murder’ of Albus Dumbledore.”_ Harry listened to Dumbledore and Snape talk about Voldemort’s plan to have Draco Malfoy assassinate Dumbledore. Dumbledore spoke of his own impending death with calmness. That didn’t surprise Harry. But what he said next did. He told Snape that should Draco fail to carry out his assignment, Snape must do it. Dumbledore said it was of the “utmost importance” that Snape be the one to kill him. The realization that everything he had believed was wrong hit Harry like a ton of bricks. Snape was not a murderer; not a traitor. He had been acting on Dumbledore’s orders the whole time. Snape sensed the confusion filling Harry’s mind. _“Yes, Mr. Potter. It turns out I’m not as much of a scoundrel as you thought. Dumbledore knew of your dislike for me, and that seeing me kill him would spurn you on to work harder, to search relentlessly for a way to kill the man you thought to be my true master.”_

Harry tried in vain to find something to say. _“Don’t worry, Mr. Potter, I don’t expect an apology, nor do I deserve one. I may not have murdered Dumbledore but I am not someone that should be pitied. Now, I feel it only fair to warn you that what you are about to see will cause you great pain, but it is necessary you see it.”_

_“This whole thing has caused me pain. My head feels like it’s about to explode.”_

_“That’s not the kind of pain I mean.”_ Harry listened to the two men continue their conversation. Dumbledore told Snape that there was something Harry must know when the time came. Snape broke into his thoughts, _“I should note that this is not the time he had in mind, but…things have not exactly gone according to plan.”_ Harry listened further. Dumbledore explained that when Harry’s mother had sacrificed herself to save Harry, that the curse rebounded and hit Voldemort, causing his soul to tear. The part of Voldemort’s soul, he said, had attached itself to Harry, the only living thing it could find. Harry had part of Voldemort’s soul living inside him. He was a Horcrux.

_“Can we stop now, Professor?”_

_“I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter. I’m afraid not.”_ Harry listened as Dumbledore and Snape discussed the fact that Harry would have to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated. Almost as hurtful as the realization that he would not escape the war with Voldemort alive was the cool, detached nature with which Dumbledore discussed Harry’s life coming to an end. Hell, even Snape seemed more broken about it than he did. Harry had trusted Dumbledore unconditionally. He had defended him anytime someone spoke a word against him. He had always known that if there was anyone that would protect him at all costs, it was Albus Dumbledore. But now he knew the truth. He had heard Snape say it. Harry had been raised like a pig for slaughter. He was just a pawn in Dumbledore’s game. Snape was right. This part did hurt.

“Are we finished? Please?” Harry spoke aloud, choking back tears.

“Yes, Potter. We’re finished.” Snape withdrew the memory and returned it to its bottle. 

“Harry, mate, what did you see,” Ron asked from across the room. Snape rebuked him.

“Perhaps now is not the best time for questions, Mr. Weasley,” Severus said, standing from his chair. “I imagine Mr. Potter needs time alone with his thoughts.”

Harry leaned forward in his chair, cradling his head in his hands. Everything he had come to believe had been a lie. _Every fucking thing._ That wasn’t even the worst part of the whole sodding mess. Harry’s mind turned to everyone who had risked their lives to ensure his safety. He thought of the people who had lost their lives in order for him to live. The realization settled on his shoulders, nearly crushing him into the floor. All of loss, all of the death, all of the pain had been for nothing. Harry Potter wasn’t the one to defeat the Dark Lord; he was the bastard’s last lifeline. The idea of a piece of the lunatic’s soul being inside him was too much. He felt tainted; just as contemptible.

“What’s going on?” Snape and Ron turned to see Hermione. She had finally emerged from the bedroom and by the look on her face, the only thing on her mind was her distraught friend. 

“Harry? Harry, what’s wrong?” He finally looked up at her, his face blotchy from the tears that were still rolling down his face. “My God, Harry…what is it?”

“I’m one of them.” It was the simplest phrase but those four seemingly innocent words sank deep into her heart. Hermione sank down on the sofa as she mulled over his words. Part of her had always wondered if that was always the case given Harry’s ability to speak Parseltongue and the odd connection between his mind and Voldemort’s. 

Ron stepped forward, bending down in front of Harry. His voice faltered as he spoke. “What? You…you can’t be. No, no! That is not possible.” He turned to Hermione. “Hermione, how is this possible?” 

Severus was genuinely perplexed. He had no idea the meaning of Harry’s words, but had a strong suspicion he wasn’t going to like what he heard. “You are one of what, Potter?” 

Hermione stood abruptly and began pacing across the sitting room floor. “Harry is a Horcrux, Professor. He is what we have been searching for since the end of the summer holiday. A Horcrux is a vessel, and a particularly dark one at that, that can contain a person’s soul. In an attempt to gain immortality, a witch or wizard will trap a fragment of his or her soul in an object, thus leaving the soul earthbound. Should the physical body be destroyed, the essence of the person will survive, meaning that person can never die. However, if one destroys the Horcruxes—”

“One, in turn, destroys the soul,” Severus completed. 

He had heard of Horcruxes, but had never expected the blasted things to be what was standing in the way of the Dark Lord’s demise. Everything suddenly made sense. That must have been the mission Dumbledore had left Harry before his death; the same mission Dumbledore refused to discuss with Severus. The old fool expected a teenage wizard to hunt down and destroy the parts of Voldemort’s soul. Given the reaction of his former students, this was not something they were expecting to find out. 

“How do you know?” Hermione asked, sitting down once again. “I mean, are you absolutely sure?”

“Professor Snape, told me” Harry said, finally meeting Severus’s gaze. “While you were asleep, he showed me some of Dumbledore’s memories. It’s all there, every bit of it. The lies, the manipulation, everything. I was just too stupid to notice it.” 

“I can assure you, I had no idea that was the case. Albus Dumbledore did not divulge every secret to me.” Snape paused, cupping his chin in his hand. “Is that where the two of you went, during your sixth year? Were you trying to locate them?” 

“Yes, that was all Dumbledore thought about. We didn’t even know for sure what we were really dealing with until I was able to get Professor Slughorn to tell the truth.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Professor Slughorn was the one who advised the Tom Riddle about the creation of Horcruxes while he was still at Hogwarts. At first, he gave Dumbledore a false memory. Dumbledore said Slughorn was ashamed of himself. Toward the end of the term, though, I was able to get the proper one.” 

“And by using his memory, you were able to learn what?”

“That we had our work cut out for us,” Hermione added. “The crazy fool had created six of the vile things, or at least we believe he did.”

“Six? You can’t actually be serious.”

“I wish I were joking, Professor. But I’m not.”

“How many have been destroyed?” 

“Well, there was the diary that belonged to Tom Riddle,” Ron began. “Harry took care of that, second year. You remember that, right? Turns out, the ruddy bastard was able to open the Chamber of Secrets using it.” 

“How was it destroyed?” 

“I stabbed it with a Basilisk fang.” 

“Then, there was the ring of course,” Harry added. “But you knew about it already. I guess the last one we were able to find was Salazar Slytherin’s locket.” 

“How did you manage to destroy the locket?” Snape asked.

“Ron, sliced into it with the Sword of Gryffindor,” Harry said flatly. “We had tried everything. We cursed it, hexed it, tried burning it, but none of it worked. We carried the damn thing around for weeks trying to come up with a way to kill it. Then, on the night Ron came back, the sword just appeared out of thin air. We figured it was a sign and decided to see if it would work. It did.”

“So, that leaves three more,” Hermione said with a sigh, “or four, rather, if you include Harry.”

“Do you have any idea about the others?” Severus said settling himself down on the sofa opposite Hermione. 

“Well,” Hermione began, “I have a theory. The Dark Lord, given the forms of the Horcruxes we have already destroyed, picked items that he valued. Not a very smart idea, if you ask me but that is beside the point. I believe the remaining Horcruxes will follow the same trend. They will be small, inconspicuous, but they will carry significant sentimental value. The only problem is… what does a man with a splintered soul value?”

The three men stared at her. Ron with a dumbfounded gawk. Harry, his brows furrowed as if he was considering the merit of the idea. Then of course, Severus, who studied her carefully. 

“What?” Hermione’s words came out a little sharper than she had intended. 

“How does Harry fit the mold?” Ron finally asked. “Last time I checked, Lord Snake Face doesn’t really value much of anything, least of all the person he has pegged as his enemy.”

“Well, it's obvious, isn’t it? I’m the Horcrux he never meant to make.” Harry turned his attention to Snape. “Wouldn’t you agree, Professor?” 

Severus nodded stiffly. “I would say that is a safe assumption, yes. With that being said, I believe you now have an advantage. You know something the Dark Lord does not. That could prove to be a useful tactic.” 

“Okay,” Ron snapped, “it might just be me but I don’t really see how Harry dying is an advantage.”

Hermione and Severus shot Weasley a glare simultaneously. The red head immediately recognized his mistake. Harry’s expression was one of sheer panic. No one had come right out and blatantly spoke the words none of them wanted to hear, except for Ronald Weasley, of course. Sure, Harry was a Horcrux, but hearing someone during the current moment say that he would have to die in order for Voldemort to be killed hit him considerably hard. Harry shifted in his chair, trying to further himself from the three other individuals in the same room. If he could have gone through the wall into the yard, he would have done so to escape their stares. Severus suddenly understood what Dumbledore had meant about the appropriate moment. Saying that now wasn’t the appropriate time was a gigantic understatement, but then again, when is telling a seventeen year old boy he has to die in order to end a Wizarding war a good time? 

“Harry…I—I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

Harry stood from his chair and started for the hall leading toward the bedrooms. “Don’t worry about it, Ron.” Three pairs of eyes watched as the Boy Who Lived disappeared from sight. The sound of a slamming door echoed throughout the house shortly thereafter.

“Nice, Ronald. That was very considerate!”

“Hey, I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“Well, it did.”

Ron opened his mouth to say something in return but snapped it shut after receiving a look from Severus. “Mr. Weasley, I find myself in agreement with Miss Granger. Potter is having a very difficult time dealing with this…new information. It would be most prudent to keep his mind from the inevitable and on the task that lies before him. Your friend still has a lot of work to do and will not be able to finish if he is constantly being reminded that he will meet his end just as the Dark Lord. You are not to speak of it again. Is that clear?”

Ron nodded his head in understanding. He stood there for a long moment before scratching the back of his head, looking completely at a loss. He turned, heading in Harry’s direction. “I uh…I’m just going to give him—Harry his wand and see if he wants to have a chat. I won’t bring anything up about all that, Professor. I’m just going to go check on him.”

*********

Severus and Hermione sat on opposite ends of the sofa, neither of them outwardly aware of the other. Ron had long since retired to a room of his own, leaving the two of them alone. Even though Severus Snape was normally accustomed to silence, it was driving him mad now. He still hadn’t spoken to her about his less than savory behavior while the two of them were at Spinner’s End, nor had he brought up the encounter with the Snatchers.

Severus cleared his throat. “May I ask what is on your mind?”

Hermione angled her body toward him, as she obliged his request. “There are several things on my mind, actually.” 

“Such as?”

“How we are ever going to pull this off, for one. It seems impossible now…now that we know what has to happen.” She started to work her bottom lip between her teeth. “If I’m being completely honest, I should have seen this coming. I have known for a while, actually. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Severus knew what she was referring to. His thoughts went to one of her memories he had experienced. He could see her in his mind’s eye, scribbling on sheet after sheet of parchment with great fervency. Hermione Granger had always been analytical in every aspect of her life, but that was the first time she didn’t want to believe the numbers. No matter how hard she tried, no matter the combinations she used, they always said the same thing.

“Are you talking about the Arithmancy charts you were working on while at Grimmauld Place?” He realized by the look on her face that he had just said the wrong thing.

“H…how do you know about that?” 

“I may have taken the… liberty of looking into a few of your memories the first time we were here.”

His response was met with a swift assault to the head by means of a couch pillow. “How dare you invade my privacy!” 

“Allow me to make it perfectly clear that was not my original intent, Miss Granger,” he said with a sneer. “Just because I have the ability to get inside people’s minds doesn’t mean I do it whenever the notion strikes me.” She made to hurl the other pillow at his head but he caught it in his hands. “Besides, with the way you have your mind arranged I had no choice. I had to look around to find what I needed.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means, silly girl, that if you were properly trained, your mind would be a fortress.” 

She was not expecting to hear that and she was convinced she was turning delirious. There was no way she had heard him correctly. Severus Snape did not give compliments. “But the Dark Lord was able to rip through my head.”

“That is because, and might I add that I just made this point not five seconds ago, you have no formal training.”

“Harry couldn’t do it. I remember him talking about the Occlumency lessons he had with you.”

“He could never master it because he never tried,” Severus said lazily. “Potter is unable to compartmentalize his feelings. His emotions are bursting at the seams, constantly threatening to overcome him. You on the other hand, already have the foundation. You are able to control that aspect of mind.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you because you need to know what you are capable of. There may also come a time, and I fear it will be in the near future, where the skill will be useful.” 

“So you really think the end of the entire mess is near?”

“Yes.”

A heavy silence settled over the sitting room as the two of them contemplated the end. For Hermione, it was heartrending. Her friend would die and there was nothing that could be done about it. She was a fool to think Harry would be the only one to fall. She thought of the sleeping redhead down the hall. She couldn’t imagine never hearing Ron’s goofy laugh or watching him horse around with Harry. As surprising as it was to her, she also thought of the man sitting one cushion down from her. Severus Snape, as irksome and sour as he could be, was a good man. He placed himself in mortal danger repeatedly, asking for nothing in return. He had done the bidding for both of his masters without question. It just didn’t seem fair for him to finally be free from his servitude and not live to take advantage of it. 

Severus on the other hand, had no clue what to do at this point. His cover had been totally blown. He was no longer Headmaster, thus leaving the students and staff of Hogwarts at the mercy of Lucius Malfoy and Amycus Carrow. Truth be told, he had never intended to find himself deciding his own fate. He had resigned himself to the notion that he would never see a world that didn’t contain Voldemort. Of course, that wasn’t the case now. Severus Snape was standing at a crossroads. He had technically fulfilled his obligation to Dumbledore. He could very well go on his own way and only look after himself. This path was easy, this path was welcoming, but this was also the path that didn’t appeal to him, at least not anymore. The path he knew he should steer clear of was, in fact, the one he knew he would undoubtedly want to follow. As much as he disliked Potter and Weasley, he knew the two boys would need help. Then there was the issue with Hermione. Severus wasn’t sure what he felt about her but he knew there was _something._ The thought of something happening to her made him cringe. Hermione Granger had too much potential and a whole lot of life ahead of her. He knew he would do whatever it took to make sure she got the chance to live her life. Even so, Severus knew his hands were tied. Dumbledore had purposefully kept him in the dark and that was where he was supposed to stay.

“I have no idea what to do,” Hermione almost shrieked. “I don’t know what to say to Harry. I don’t know where to begin when it comes to the remaining pieces of the Dark Lord’s soul. It is frustrating.”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips before he could contain it. “Your frustration is mutual.” 

Hermione frowned. “That’s comforting.”

“What’s comforting?” Both of their heads snapped up as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been. It was Harry. 

“We were just talking about not knowing what to do,” Hermione offered, patting the empty seat between her and Snape. “Professor Snape wasn’t being very helpful.” She flashed him a grin. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry said as he plopped down in the open space. “I might know one of the other Horcruxes. It is a stupid idea, but it’s all I have.”

_This should be interesting_ , Severus thought. “Go on…”

“Before Dumbledore died, he showed me a memory belonging to Riddle. He was much younger then, and he was working at Borgin and Burkes. He came across some lady by the name of…Hepzibah Smith, I believe. Anyway, this Smith woman owned several famous magical items and she made the mistake of showing Riddle. She turns up dead a few weeks later and two of the most prized pieces in her collection had disappeared.”

“Do you remember what they were?” Hermione asked, clearly enthralled. 

“Yes, and so do you. The first was the locket. The second was Helga Hufflepuff’s golden cup. Seeing as how he turned the locket into a Horcrux, he might have done the same with the cup.”

“Harry…”

His eyes shifted to the floor. “I know, Hermione. I told you it was stupid.”

“No, it isn’t stupid at all! It is actually quite logical, don’t you agree, Professor Snape?”

“It is a start. I also have an idea concerning the remaining Horcruxes. Dumbledore had once said there would come a time when the Dark Lord would fear for the life of his snake. Perhaps there is more to his statement than I first realized.”

Harry sighed heavily. “So that’s a lead on two of the things, then. What is the last one?” The three were silent for a few moments, before they heard a voice from down the hallway.

“Something that belongs to another Hogwarts founder, right?” The three of them turned to look at Ron, who had just emerged from his room. “Looks to me like You-Know-Who is trying to collect things that belonged to the Hogwarts founders – Slytherin’s locket, Hufflepuff’s cup. Maybe the last Horcrux belonged to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.” Harry, Hermione, and Snape looked at Ron, their mouths agape. “What? Does that not make sense?”

“No, it makes a lot of sense, Ron,” Hermione replied. “It’s actually quite brilliant.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say that,” Ron’s cheeks started to take on the color of his hair.

Severus stood, his mind obviously elsewhere. “Godric Gryffindor was the owner of the Sorting Hat and the Sword obviously. As you know, the Sword of Gryffindor is in Miss Granger’s bag. The Sorting Hat has never been beyond the castle walls. Meaning the final Horcrux would be something of value from Rowena Ravenclaw.”

“I don’t suppose you know anything about her, Professor?” Harry inquired. 

“No, I do not,” Snape admitted. “There are certain parts of Wizarding history, namely those parts that pertain to the Hogwarts founders, that have largely remained legend passed down from older generations of students to new students in the same house. In order to find out something like this, we would probably need to talk to someone from Ravenclaw House. Unfortunately, I don’t see any Ravenclaws among us at the moment.”

“We’ll just have to figure it out later,” Harry chimed in. “We don’t have time to waste racking our brains for something that none of us know anything about. The longer we wait, the bigger Voldemort’s army gets and the more powerful he becomes.”

“You’re right, Harry,” Hermione agreed. “That’s why I’ve been thinking…maybe we should split up. We would cover more ground, save time, and be harder to detect than if we were moving all together.” 

“Absolutely not, Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice was no louder than usual, but was definitely more authoritative. “If one of you gets caught alone by a group of Snatchers or Death Eaters, you would meet your end.”

“Who said anything about us being alone, Professor? Harry and Ron will go after one of the Horcruxes and you and I will go after another.” 

“No, Miss Granger.”

“Fine, you can go with Harry and I’ll go with Ron if that is what you would prefer.” 

Severus’s lip curled with displeasure. 

“You can’t deny the advantages, Professor. You owe me after all, you know.”

“This is absurd, Miss—”

“I helped you,” she interrupted. “You know we can’t do this alone.”

“The plan was never for me to get involved. Dumbledore clearly didn’t want me involved or he wouldn’t have kept me in the dark about what you were doing.”

“I don’t care what Dumbledore wanted!” All eyes turned to Harry after his sudden exclamation. “I’m tired of being lied to and used. I’m the one who has to die at the end of all this. Look Professor, I know you didn’t like my father and that you don’t like me very much either. But we need your help. Hermione’s right, it will speed things along if we split up. So I’m asking you, please, if you’ll help us.”

“And why are you so anxious to speed things along, Mr. Potter. After all, as you said, you must die at the end of this. Why hasten your own death?”

“Because when I die, he will go with me. I’m prepared for what awaits me, Professor. My mum died to save me. She’d want me to do the same to save countless others, don’t you agree?”

Severus fell silent. Hermione looked at his face, attempting to get a read on what he was thinking. It was the first time that Hermione had ever seen anything resembling empathy, pity, or respect for Harry on her professor’s face. Several moments passed before he broke his silence. “Very well, Mr. Potter. If that is truly what you want, then you have my help.”

* * *

**Author’s Notes:**

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks so much to all of you faithful readers, you make me smile!


	13. Contrivance

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

Contrivance

A man’s tortured scream rang throughout the Forest of Dean. It was the sort of scream that had no business coming from a middle-aged wizard, let alone a werewolf. Greyback, who had been hoisted into the air by his wrists, was twitching savagely as he gasped for air. To his left was Ignavus. The poor fool had been the first to die. His shirt was ripped open, revealing the word coward, which was carved to the bone in his torso. The ground below him was caked with blood and bits of tissue. Scabior was on the other side of Greyback and in no better shape than Ignavus. Scabior’s wrists had been slit along with his throat and he had been hit with a particularity nasty curse that led to the expulsion of his entrails. His death had been painfully drawn out. Voldemort eventually finished him with the Killing Curse after tiring of his whines. Apart from Greyback, the Snatchers had succumbed to the torture some hours before, and now hung like limp rags from their invisible shackles. Surrounding the three men was a syndicate of dark witches and wizards. No one spoke. No one dared to turn away. That was a sign of weakness—an offense that garnered the same fate as deception and failure.

“Tell me, Fenrir,” Voldemort seethed dangerously, “tell me why I should allow your foul heart to beat.” Greyback made an effort to defend himself, but the words died on his tongue as he was hit with by another round of the Cruciatus Cruse. The werewolf howled in agony as his body was consumed by the searing pain of the curse. The Dark Lord was not in a forgiving mood. Blood dripped from Greyback’s hands and down his exposed arms as his sharp, jagged nails dug into the flesh of his palms. The thick muscles in his arms and neck looked as if they were about to burst out of his skin at any moment. The disgusting way his muscles rolled under the curse made his body look as if some creature had bore itself deep within him and was now feverously trying to clawing its way to the surface. The fear and panic in Greyback’s dark eyes was unsettling. It was chilling to imagine a more despicable fiend than himself. It was even more terrifying, however, to watch such a monster at work.

Voldemort waved his wand in Greyback’s direction languidly, ending the curse. “Your failure has cost me greatly, and that is something I find very hard to swallow.” With another flick of Voldemort’s wrist Greyback fell to the ground with a thump. “Your carelessness resulted in the death of a young man with great potential, someone who was far more worthy of life than you. Now, I must decide what to do with your lousy carcass.” Voldemort turned to look at his followers. “Any suggestions, my dear friends?” The silence was crushing. “How unfortunate for you, Fenrir, it seems as if your fate has been left entirely up to me.”

Greyback rolled over to face his master, who was towering above him. Voldemort simply smiled down at him. The smile was the calm before the now imminent storm. “Are you afraid of death or do you long for her embrace?” Greyback’s eyes went wide in horror, he tried to speak but Voldemort silenced him. “Do not be rash in your decision, my friend. It is most crucial that you choose your answer carefully because you will have to live with the consequences of your decision.” The other Death Eaters looked on in silence, anxiously awaiting the werewolf’s response. This was a side of Voldemort they wished to never see. It was not uncommon for him to play with his food before he ate it, but he had taken things to an entirely new level. He was the one playing with dice and Greyback would almost certainly lose. 

“Please, my Lord, give me another chance. I promise not to disappoint you again. Just, please, spare me.” 

Voldemort scoffed. “Of course you would plead like a coward instead of dying with honor, fucking mutt!” The Dark Lord delivered a swift kick to Greyback’s side. “Harry Potter within your grasp and you turn tail and run! Not to mention that you allow one of my most promising servants to die at the hands of a wandless Mudblood.” Greyback started begging again, but was cut off quickly. “You are not worthy to remain in my service.” Voldemort drew his wand, pointing it directly between Greyback’s dark eyes. “Avada Kedavra!” A violent green light erupted from the tip of his wand, and with that, Greyback’s body went limp. Voldemort looked down at the werewolf long enough to spit on his corpse. 

“Dolohov.”

Antonin jumped at the mention of his name and stepped from the throng apprehensively. “Yes, my Lord?” 

“I want you to locate a trace. Once you find it, you know where to go. Do not go after them alone.”

“Yes, my Lord.” 

Voldemort stepped toward Dolohov and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. The Dark Lord spoke to him with a quiet urgency. “Antonin, my son, we cannot afford another failure.”

“I understand, my Lord. I will not disappoint you.” 

“Do not underestimate Severus,” he advised. “He is adroit and he will be waiting.”

“I can assure you, Snape will not be a problem. He is predictable, my Lord.”

Voldemort released his grip and Dolohov bowed graciously before his master, then slipped quietly into the tree line. The Dark Lord turned to address the remaining silent Death Eaters.

“We have been lenient for far too long! From hence forth, we will no longer hide amongst the shadows. The time has come to rid the world of Muggle filth. Let them know who we are, what we stand for. Let them know we will not yield! Should you meet resistance, squelch it. Muggles and Mudbloods will either submit or die. Those who would help or harbor them are no better. They are a disgrace to Wizarding kind and we will stamp them out right along with the garbage they try to protect. We reconvene at the Riddle House! It is time we bring the Wizarding World to its knees!” 

Voldemort’s form morphed; his appearance likened to that of a billowing plume of black smoke. He shot up through the trees and out of the forest. The remaining Death Eaters followed suit, paying no mind to the three spent bodies they left behind.

*********

Severus Snape sat at the small kitchen table, his fingers tracing the rim of his half-empty tea cup. His tea and toast had long since gone tepid, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his seat. Golden rays of a new day washed over the kitchen, illuminating it with a pure, unadulterated light. Severus watched, captivated, as the tiny, iridescent dust particles floated around one another as if in the middle of some ceremonial dance. It was a comforting escape. He had been the only one awake for several hours and it was a welcome change. It gave him a chance to think; a chance to plan.

In a few hours, the four of them would pair off and part ways in search of pieces of Voldemort’s soul. It was a daunting task, full of uncertainty and risk. He was furious with Albus Dumbledore for leaving such a duty to the three of them. The old fool hadn’t even told them where to start, nor did he mention that one among them was the very things they had run themselves ragged to track down. Albus had left a lot to chance. What would have come to fruition if Severus hadn’t been able to get to Potter in time to tell him the truth? It suddenly hit him. Albus Dumbledore had never really trusted him, at least not entirely. Why else would he have left him in the dark? Severus knew the answer to that. He was a Death Eater, or at least played the part particularly well. Albus feared the temptation that came with such a role. It would have been all too easy for Severus to switch allegiances, especially after the old man’s death. Severus knew where his loyalties belonged and he had known since Halloween night some sixteen years ago. He knew his true intentions, and he would have rather died than contribute to the Voldemort’s conquest for power. 

“Lily.” He had said it before he even realized what he was doing. Severus had made a point to never say her name aloud, for the simple fact that she was a strong reminder of all of his past transgressions. It seemed to hurt a little less these days to think of her and he was glad for it. Severus had seen her the night before, through the eyes of her son. Harry Potter was the spitting image of his father and carried the same arrogance and hardheadedness, but Severus couldn’t deny it any longer - Lily Evans was a part of him too. Harry was selfless, not unlike his mother, and he was willing to sacrifice himself if that was what it took to bring down the Dark Lord. It was time to stop thinking of him as a symbol of James Potter’s victory and as Harry Potter—the boy who was going to give up his own life so that others may live. Severus had made a promise to Dumbledore that he would do whatever it took to keep Lily’s son safe. It was a promise he was no longer able to keep, but Severus would look out for the boy until the time came. 

“Good morning, Professor.” Severus glanced up. It was Hermione. She looked considerably better this morning, given the shape she was in when he found her the night before. Her hair was still wet, and her skin flushed by the heat of her recent shower. The smell of warm vanilla and cinnamon permeated his senses as she ambled over to the empty seat beside him. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it pleasant. 

“It is hardly morning, Miss Granger,” Severus said, nodding toward the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the afternoon. 

“Yes, well, it is good no matter the time of day. We are safe and alive, that has to count for something.”

“Indeed.”

The two of them were quiet for some time. Hermione fiddled with the frayed end of a doily as Severus continued to study the dust dancing through the sunshine. The two of them gave the outward appearance of being completely engrossed with such mundane tasks. It couldn’t have been further from the truth. Inside, the two of them waged war against themselves, trying to formulate the right words to say to the other. Hermione found the courage first. 

“I want to thank you, Professor.” Severus gazed at her through his curtain of dark hair. “For everything.”

“That isn’t necessary Miss—”

“Please, let me finish while I still have the nerve.” 

Severus stretched his long legs out in front of him as he settled himself more comfortably in his seat to hear her admission. “Then by all means, Miss Granger, let’s hear it then.”

“We couldn’t have made it without you. I would be dead. I know I would. They would have tortured me to death at Malfoy Manor. You stopped it. That blond Snatcher in the woods was going to...to rape me.”

Snape looked away from her. He didn’t like hearing it any more than she liked talking about it. “I don’t deserve any credit for that. It was Potter and Weasley who came to your rescue in the forest.”

“Yes, but it was only because of _you_ that they were able to do that. You’re the reason they were able to escape Malfoy Manor. If the Portkey hadn’t teleported them out at that exact moment, Voldemort would have killed them. You know that as well as I do. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead. So, thank you, Professor.” 

Severus sat with his chin in his hand and continued to stare out the window, not wanting to make eye contact with Hermione. He was sure looking into her eyes, seeing the gratitude she was expressing mixed with the dread she felt for her friend, would cause him to lose his bearings. “You’re most welcome, Miss Granger. There is also something I would like to say. I feel as if I owe you an explanation. My behavior the past afternoon was misdirected.”

Hermione smiled weakly, though Severus never saw it. “It’s alright, Professor. I can’t imagine how this arrangement has been easy for you. Being saddled with three former students you’re not particularly fond of is not what you had in mind, that much I know.”

“Be that as it may,” he said, finally looking her in the eye, “you shouldn’t have been spoken to in such a manner.”

“You’re right, I guess. At least you had the decency to track me down.”

“I couldn’t very well allow you to stay there. I didn’t save your life just to have you hunted down by Fenrir Greyback.”

“Thank you for that also. I don’t remember much after you Apparated us away from Hogwarts.”

“For that, Miss Granger, you should be glad. I would do well to forget it myself. Speaking of your…injury, how are you feeling?”

“I hurt still, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it was. I can move now, though getting punched in the ribs didn’t help matters.”

Severus remembered the assault she was referring to. It was a good thing he had been hit by Scabior’s curse, or he would have killed Corbett himself. He hated any man that would lay a hand on a woman. Men of that character reminded him of his father, and if he was being completely honest, himself as well. He had put his hands on her and had even tortured her within an inch of her life. It had all been for show, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that he had done it. Hermione understood his motives. She had forgiven him and moved on, which in Severus’s opinion, was far more than he deserved. 

“I’m afraid I have nothing to give you,” he said apologetically. “I have never known of anyone surviving such an attack as the one you were subject to. As far as your recovery is concerned, the only thing to do is to see what happens.”

“I’ll be fine, really,” she said, removing herself from the table. “Anyway, would you like some more tea?”

“No. I have yet to finish what I have started.” 

Hermione turned her back to him as she busied herself with her own tea and toast. “Have you determined what to do?” 

“About?”

“Searching for the remaining Horcruxes—you must have some idea.”

“I have given it some thought, yes.”

“Well?” she asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“It would be most prudent to gather as much information regarding the locations of the remaining pieces of the Dark Lord’s soul. It would save time if we are looking at this situation from a large perspective.”

“How do we gather information like that?”

“Find someone who knows, obviously.”

“I know that, but how do we find someone who knows about them? I mean you were by You-Know-Who’s side for years and he never told you.”

“That was because I lived in Dumbledore’s pocket, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord would have never divulged that sort of information to me. He would have been a fool to risk it.”

“But you believe he told someone?”

“It is a possibility.” 

“Do you have any idea?” she asked, taking a sip from her steaming cup.

“Yes. It is someone he trusts a great deal, someone who would guard his secrets till the death.”

“Who?”

“Madame Lestrange.”

“How do you know that?”

Severus stood from his chair, cup in hand and headed toward the sink. “I know because she keeps things for him—items of great importance. That sword you have, for instance, should be in her possession. The Dark Lord gave me specific instructions, once I had been appointed Headmaster, to take the sword to Bellatrix. The one she has is a fake, of course, but neither of them is aware of that.”

“She would never tell you anything.”

“Bellatrix would never, no. But Rodolphus has been known to spill secrets if the conditions are fitting.”

“How would you ever get the two of them apart?”

Severus chuckled as he emptied his cold tea down the drain. “Apparently, you are not aware of their situation. While the Lestranges are ‘together,’ Bellatrix is besotted with the Dark Lord. As a result, Rodolphus drowns his sorrows in cheap drink and coarse confidants.”

“So, you believe if he were…sloshed, he would tell you what you wanted to know?”

“No, but I believe he would tell you.”

“He would recognize me,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “That would never work.”

“Rodolphus can hardly recognize his own shadow when he is in a drunken stupor.”

“I’m not really comfortable with this plan, Professor. Getting close to a Death Eater, let alone a violent, drunken one, is not something I’m eager to do. What is it exactly that you have in mind, anyway?”

“Rodolphus likes to frequent a certain tavern in Knockturn Alley called the Thirsty Dragon. He goes there every night looking to forget his troubles and to find his newest conquest. You will wait until he has been there long enough to become inebriated. You will then enter and use your…womanly charms…to extract the information we need.”

“My womanly charms? You must be joking. I don’t have womanly charms.” 

“Sure you do. You just don’t flaunt them. However, for this mission to be successful, you’re going to have to.” Severus could tell that the young witch was still not convinced. He sensed that her reservations stemmed from a fear of being captured again and being subjected once more to the hell she went through at Malfoy Manor. “You needn’t worry about your safety, Miss Granger. I will be in the tavern, wearing a disguise. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be there.”

This assurance seemed to make her a little more confident. “And once I get the information…what then? You don’t expect me to actually…”

“Of course not. You will excuse yourself to the loo and quietly leave. He’ll be so plastered by that time that he will have forgotten that he ever met you. I’ll follow you out and we’ll leave Knockturn Alley as quickly as possible.” He gave her a moment to think before giving her a final word of affirmation. “I won’t let harm come to you, Miss Granger. I need you to trust me. It is of the utmost importance that we get this information. So…can I count on you?”

Hermione looked at him uneasily for a moment before taking a deep breath and plucking up all the confidence she could muster. “Yes, Professor. I’ll do it.” 

“You’ll do what?” Ron Weasley came strolling into the kitchen, still wearing his nightclothes. Snape glanced at Hermione, who looked positively stricken. Hermione Granger was a lot of things, but a convincing liar wasn’t one of them. If her friends knew of the plan he had just suggested, they would never stand for her leaving, or worse, they would insist on helping. Severus cleared his throat, causing Hermione to look at him. The moment her eyes met his, he was in her head.

_“He must not know, Miss Granger. Tell him you are agreeing to do research.”_

“I uh…I am doing research for Professor Snape.”

“Oh. What sort of research?” 

_“Something relating to the Horcruxes. Figure something out. Now.”_

“He wants me to figure out any other methods that can be used to kill one, should we find them of course.” 

Ron poured himself a cup of tea. “We have the sword. Why won’t that work?”

Severus was getting agitated. Since when was Ronald Weasley this inquisitive? “It won’t work, Mr. Weasley, because the sword cannot be in two places at once. As the four of us will be pairing off, only one pair will have immediate access to it.”

“I guess you’re right. Never really thought about that.”

Eager to change the subject, Severus interjected, “Yes, well, I think it’s time that the four of us sat down and discussed the plan going forward. Where is Potter?”

“I’m here,” answered a voice from the hallway. “What’s going on?” 

“The time has come, Mr. Potter, to discuss a course of action.”

Harry slumped in an empty chair, trying desperately to flatten his untidy hair. Harry Potter was exhausted but he trudged along regardless. “I assume you’ve already thought of something?”

“Yes. Miss Granger made an important point this morning when she suggested the four of us pair off. With that being said, she and I will pair and you and Mr. Weasley will do the same.”

“How do we decide who goes after what?” Ron asked through bites of his breakfast.

“No one will be going after anything, just yet, Mr. Weasley.”

Harry’s face took on a confused expression. “So…we do what then?”

“Might I suggest you and Weasley try to locate a Ravenclaw? It will save time if you know what you are looking for rather than searching blindly.”

“We could do that, don’t you think, Ron?”

Ron nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t see why we couldn’t. Just have to figure out who would know is the only thing.”

“If we are able to figure it out what the Horcrux is,” Harry began, “we just go after it?”

“That is the idea, yes.”

“This is a good plan and all, Professor, but if Ron and I are able to get our hands on the thing, how will we kill it?”

“I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Hermione chimed. “Obviously, the sword will be with Professor Snape and me, because I can keep it hidden. We will need to figure out a way to communicate, should you need it.”

“What about a Patronus Charm?” Harry suggested. “We could send a message that way.”

Snape shook his head. “A Patronus would be easily recognized and intercepted. It would be too much of a risk.”

“Wait a minute! I have an idea. I’ll be right back.” Three sets of curious eyes followed Hermione out of the kitchen. A few moments later, she returned, carrying her bottomless pit of a bag. “I don’t know how I didn’t think of this before. You remember the D.A. Galleons? It just so happens I brought a few of them along, in case the need presented itself.” Hermione placed the opened bag on the table, holding her wand over it. “Accio Galleons.” A small pouch flew out of the bag and she plucked it out of the air. “The charm will have to be adjusted on two of them, of course. We only have one master coin right now.”

Snape had made his way over to the table by this point and was examining the coins in question. “What charm are you referring to, Miss Granger?” 

“The Protean Charm.”

Severus picked up one of the coins, looking at it closer, still not truly believing what he was hearing. “These look genuine. When did you do this?”

“Fifth year. The members of the D.A. needed a way to keep in touch that wouldn’t draw the attention of that foul Umbridge woman. This was the most inconspicuous way. As soon as the coins are adjusted, it should work just fine.”

“What do you mean by adjust them?” Ron asked. “Why can’t each person just get one the way they are now. They worked fine when we used them at Hogwarts.”

“No, it wouldn’t work that way. Two master coins are needed along with two recipient coins. Each team, if you will, will have a master coin and a recipient coin. Say, for instance, that Professor Snape and I need to contact you. We would simply activate our master coin and its link, your recipient coin, would receive the message. The same would work for you and Harry.”

Ron grimaced. “That sounds like a lot of work. How long will it take to fix the charm?” 

“Not long at all,” Hermione replied. “Maybe thirty minutes or so for me to get it just right.”

“We should be able to get started today, right?” 

“Absolutely,” Severus said to Harry. “As you said, time is of the essence when dealing with the Dark Lord. I do not believe he is aware of what we are trying to do, though it won’t take him much longer to realize. We will have to move quickly.” He turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger, can you have the coins sorted out within the hour?”

“Yes, sir. It won’t be a problem.” 

“Very well, we will leave here by the next hour. Until then, I suggest everyone get their things in order.”

The three of them nodded their heads in agreement and started to disperse. Severus interrupted them. “One more thing. There is something I must do. It will require me to leave the house. It will not take long and I want the three of you to stay inside. Do not leave for any reason. Is that understood?”

“Where are you going?” Hermione questioned, slightly thrown off her guard. He hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving.

Severus arched an eyebrow. “To collect what you need for your research, Miss Granger. I will return shortly.” Without saying another word, Snape disappeared from the kitchen with a loud crack.

Harry turned to Hermione, a look of doubt plaguing his face. “What sort of research is he talking about?”

“It’s about the Horcruxes. He must be collecting books about them. He and I are trying to figure out how to destroy them without using the Sword of Gryffindor.” 

That seemed to placate Harry well enough. “Do you think he’s really going to help us do this?”

“Yes I do, Harry. You have to trust him.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to say what was on his mind. “As odd as it sounds, I do...I think. He may not be the most pleasant person in the world, but he is committed to doing what’s right. I can’t ask any more of him than he has already given me. God knows I don’t deserve it.” 

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. “Rubbish, sure you do! You shouldn’t have to do this alone and you won’t. We’re with you till the end, right, Mione?” 

“Of course we are.”

For the first time, in a very long time, Harry really smiled at both of his friends. “Come on, Ron. Let’s leave Hermione to her Galleons. We need to figure out what to do anyway. Hermione, can I have your bag? We need to get our stuff out of it.” Hermione complied, handing Harry the purse. With that, the two boys walked from the kitchen, leaving her alone to work. They entered the bedroom Harry had been occupying and set to work trying to figure out who they knew that was a Ravenclaw and that could help them. Harry racked his brain. “Well, there’s Luna and Cho, but they’re both still back at Hogwarts, so that wouldn’t work.”

“What about Flitwick,” Ron inquired. “He goes to the Three Broomsticks a lot. Maybe we could go to Hogsmeade and catch him there.” 

“That seems risky. Something tells me that Lucius Malfoy is ruling his staff with an iron fist. I doubt he lets Flitwick duck out of the castle for a Butterbeer very often.”

“Probably right,” Ron said, deflated. His disappointment did not last long, as another idea caused his head to shoot up. “I know! Penelope Clearwater!”

Harry looked confused, “Percy’s ex-girlfriend? What makes you think we could find her, or that she would even be interested in helping us?”

“She sends Christmas cards every year still; she got along great with Mum. We could go back to the Burrow and get her address from last year’s card.”

“Well, I suppose that’s as good an idea as any,” Harry responded. “Let’s get our stuff and see what Hermione thinks.”

The two boys rummaged through Hermione’s purple bag for what felt like hours as they got everything they would need. “I still don’t know how she managed to get everything to fit in here,” Ron said with admiration.

“She’s Hermione. She can manage just about everything. Do you think she’ll be alright going with Snape?” 

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Ron finally said. “Snape managed to keep her alive the whole time we were separated.”

“I know, but don’t you think it’s odd that he’s going off alone before we start all this? And why won’t he tell us where he’s going?”

Ron laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, mate. I know you and Snape have never got along. You know that I don’t like him that much either, but we’re going to have to trust him. You told me yourself that he wasn’t who you thought he was after you saw Dumbledore’s memories. He’s kept Hermione safe so far. If he was going to hurt her, he would have done it already. Think about it – he’s had the three of us all together in this house for over a day. If he was going to snitch on us, he could have summoned You-Know-Who and turned us over. We don’t have to like Snape, but we’re going to have to trust him.”

“I just…I don’t like the thought of Hermione going off alone with him. We won’t have a clue where she is or if she’s safe.”

“I know, but we’ll have the Galleons in case there’s an emergency. I don’t like the idea either, but she’s made up her mind. There’s no talking her out of it, so there’s no use trying.”

Harry sighed. “I guess you’re right. Well…let’s go tell her the plan.” 

They threw the remainder of their things in their own satchels and made their way down the hall just in time to see Professor Snape pop into existence in the living room. “Well, did you make any progress?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “We were just about to go tell Hermione where we were going if you want to come hear the plan.”

Snape nodded and followed the boys into the kitchen. Hermione looked up. “Oh, that was fast. You’re just in time. I just finished up.” She handed two of the Galleons to Harry. “This one is the master, this one the recipient. Did you guys figure out where you’re going?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “We’re going home to the Burrow. We’re getting Penelope Clearwater’s address from a Christmas card, then we’re going to try and find her...” he trailed off, unsure of how Hermione and Snape were going to receive his plan. “It’s the best we could come up with in a pinch.”

“Well, it’s a fine place to start, but be careful. The Dark Lord may have people watching the Burrow, expecting you to return. Are you ready to go, Professor?”

“Yes, and we don’t have much time. I assume all of you are packed?” They all nodded. “Well, let’s not waste any more time.”

Hermione stood up and hugged Harry and Ron. “Good luck. Please be safe.”

“We will,” Harry answered. “Good luck to you two as well.” Snape did not respond to the boy’s well wishes except for a slight nod of affirmation. It was something, Harry supposed. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged final goodbyes, and with the first crack of Disapparition, Harry and Ron disappeared from the house.

Snape looked to Hermione as he offered her his arm. “Where are we going?” she asked apprehensively.

“You’ll see soon enough.” 

Hermione didn’t have enough time frown at his lack of disclosure. The moment she touched his arm, she felt the pull behind her stomach and the two of them vanished.

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and welcomed with open arms! Thanks to all who follow this story each week. You people are awesome!


	14. The Bewitching Hour

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

The Bewitching Hour

Hermione hated Side-Along Appartion when she wasn’t the one doing the Apparating. It was nauseating to be along for the ride, not to mention somewhat nerve-wracking to place her life and limb in someone else's hands. She trusted Snape to keep her intact, but that trust did little for the queasiness. The only thing that helped that was closing her eyes. The Apparition had been quick, which gave her the indication that Snape hadn’t taken them far. She was correct. When she opened her eyes, she saw he had taken them to Diagon Alley, or at least she thought he had.

This was not the Diagon Alley Hermione remembered from her younger years. She hadn’t been to the magical centre since the beginning of her sixth year; she had to admit a lot had changed, and not for the better. Diagon Alley was dead. The cobblestoned streets that were normally filled to the brim with an assortment of magical folk were occupied only by bits of trash and debris from the nearby torched shops. Hermione let go of Severus’s arm and walked to the end of the side lane he had brought them to. Keeping to the shadows, she surveyed the damage. The windows of the shops that weren’t boarded up were covered in official Ministry security notices and moving grayscale posters depicting the profiles of wanted witches and wizards. It was truly an austere sight to behold, and one Hermione hated to see. Diagon Alley’s ambiance was now lusterless and seemingly devoid of all magic. 

“This is dreadful. I knew it was bad sixth year, but I didn’t expect to see it like this,” she whispered to Severus.

“Nor did I. It is not safe for witches and wizards to roam these streets. Snatchers patrol here daily, searching for supposed blood criminals and those who oppose the Dark Lord’s reign.” 

“Is it safe for us to be here—with Snatchers roaming the lanes as you say?”

“We will be fine,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her back to guide her, “as long as we keep moving.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“Twilfit and Tattings, in South Side. I assume you are familiar?”

“Yes, but why are we going to a clothing boutique?”

“To pick up your new clothing.”

“My new clothes?” Hermione stopped and looked down at herself. She was wearing a pair of dark washed jeans and a dark blue long-sleeved shirt and a black jumper. That seemed perfectly alright. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”

“You look like a Muggle,” Snape said simply. “If you want to get any information from Lestrange, you will have to look the part. I told you what he prefers.” Hermione looked up at him, anxiety plaguing her features. She was still uncomfortable with the idea of playing a seductress. “Don’t upset yourself with worry. I have everything taken care of. We just need to pick up the order.” 

The two of them continued the short trip to the South Side of Diagon Alley. They saw no one, but kept to the shadows to avoid risk. Much to Hermione’s mortification, the two of them arrived at the little shop a few moments later. The shop itself screamed pomposity, as it was no doubt frequented by Pureblood witches and wizards. In the shop windows was an array of expensive dress robes ranging from very formal to those of a much more voluptuous variety. Snape had to all but push Hermione through the shop entrance. 

Inside the shop wasn't much better. They were the only patrons, so their presence was noticed as soon as they walked through the door. A witch with deep red hair and a salacious looking body flounced over to greet them. 

“Ahh, Mr. Prince, what a pleasure to see you back so soon. The ladies have just finished with your order. I must say it was quite fulfilling to meet your demands.” The woman had to be part Veela by the way she carried herself, not to mention the fact that her voice percolated with sensuality. Hermione grew self-conscious by second as she watched her.

“Thank you, Madam Scarlett. I’m sure the apparel you have selected will be well worth the money.”

“Oh, that they are, Sir. Here at Twilfit and Tattings we offer our customers the absolute best.” She turned to Hermione, flashing a brilliantly white smile that complimented her bright red lips. “The order must be for you?”

“Yes…”

“My dear, your ensemble is to die for!” Severus winced inwardly at her choice of words. “Mr. Prince was very specific, down to the shoes even. You are a lucky witch to have such a meticulous wizard on your arm. I like a man who has an eye for such detail. I must say, I’m a bit jealous.”

Snape averted his gaze to Hermione, who looked more than uncomfortable with the current conversation that was taking place. He decided to intervene. “Madam, we are short on time. Would you please see if everything is complete?”

“Of course, if you will excuse me.” The redhead started for the back of the shop and disappeared behind a black curtain. A few moments later she returned with a garment bag, which Hermione decided was much too short to contain anything with a hint of modesty. She handed the bag to Snape, but not before winking at Hermione. “The items have been charged to the account you provided. Should anything not be to your liking, we will do alterations free of charge, though I have no doubt it will fit her like a glove.” Snape only offered a nod before he turned for the door. Hermione was already three steps ahead of him. 

Once they were outside, he pondered the idea of saying something to her, but thought better of it. He figured he would probably just make things worse. Hermione, on the other hand, wished he would say something just to take her mind off whatever was inside that bag flung over his shoulder. He didn’t, so she just continued to walk by his side through the deserted streets in silence, her mind filled with insecurity and dread. 

Taking the backstreets to The Leaky Cauldron to avoid notice took much longer than Severus would have liked, but it was necessary. As day turned to night, the less hospitable members of the Wizarding world came out of their hidey holes. He was relieved to see the pub come into view. Hermione noticed their destination, slightly confused as to why he would bring her there. “The Leaky Cauldron? I thought we were going to Knockturn Alley?”

“We will, but you need to change,” he said, opening the door for her. “The Thirsty Dragon does not offer the same amenities as The Leaky Cauldron. Unless, of course, you would like to get ready in a public loo…”

Hermione grimaced at the thought. “No, thank you.”

“I didn’t think so,” Snape replied. 

Just as Hermione expected, The Leaky Cauldron was in a similar state as the rest of Diagon Alley. It was completely empty, save for Tom, the landlord and barman. She spotted the old man behind the bar, busy wiping down the countertop. He looked up just in time to see the two of them come through the door. “Mr. Prince,” he said as he eyed the both of them. Snape merely nodded and continued for the stairs, leading Hermione up to the room they would be using for the evening.

*********

Snape sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Hermione to emerge from the lavatory, where she was readying herself for her upcoming task. Snape himself had donned a disguise of sorts – really only a hood to hide his face. The Dark Lord probably had spies everywhere, especially in Knockturn Alley, and he could not risk being recognized. He had rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron so that Hermione could get ready for her meeting with Rodolphus. He found it more than a little inappropriate to be in a rented room with one of his students alone, but he saw no other option. He looked out the window. It was getting dark. The time had almost come for them to venture to the Thirsty Dragon. He dreaded it, but not nearly as much as he imagined Hermione did.

He knocked on the door of the lavatory. “What’s taking so long?” Maybe not the most sympathetic thing to say to a young woman trying to pluck up the courage to pose as a trollop and walk into a tavern full of drunk Dark wizards, but time was getting short. They needed to get to the tavern before Rodolphus blacked out completely.

Hermione’s voice, rife with uncertainty, answered from behind the door. “I don’t think I can do this. There has to be some other way.”

“Don’t be absurd. Of course you can do it. We’ve talked about this at length, Miss Granger. I will be there if anything should go awry.”

“It’s not that, Professor. It’s just that…” the door creaked open before she finished. “…I look ridiculous.” 

As she stepped into the bedroom and Snape had a chance to see her, several words came to his mind about the way she looked. ‘Ridiculous’ was not among them. She had changed into the short, black dress he had picked out. Madam Scarlett was right; it hugged her figure tightly, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dress stopped at her mid-thigh, just as he described it. As his eyes made their way up to her face they passed the severely plunging neckline of the dress and Snape noticed that Hermione’s shoulders were covered only by thick locks of brown, curly hair. He had never seen her wear much makeup, but her tonight her face was heavily painted – her eyelashes deep black, her cheeks a rosy pink, and her lips cherry red. Severus realized that the girl that had frequented the front row of his classes at Hogwarts was gone. Before him stood a grown woman and, Snape admitted to himself for the first time, an attractive one at that. He chided himself for allowing himself to think of her that way, even if it was for just an instant. He tried to find words to instill confidence in her. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look…precisely as you need to.”

“And how is that?”

“Desirable.” The word had escaped his lips before he could stop it. Her eyes widened with shock for a moment. She nervously chewed on her bottom lip, sending Snape’s mind reeling to places it ought not go. He blinked hard and shook his head. “Never mind. We need to go now.” He opened the door and motioned for her to lead the way out. He closed the door and locked it behind them. As he followed her down the hall, he tried not to allow his eyes to wander to her shapely backside, but his will was unable to curb his fleshly desires. He harshly reproached himself. _Stop that. If not for this war, she would still be sitting in your classroom. She is just a girl._ Severus tried to reconcile his mind’s logic with the conflicting story his eyes were telling him, but found it quite difficult.

In a matter of minutes, they were standing outside the Thirsty Dragon. Severus turned to Hermione and said in a hushed voice, “There are not many people out here, and I don’t want you to go in alone. Allow me two minutes to go in and find a table. I’ll stay as close to the bar as I can. You know what to do from there.”

She inhaled deeply and nodded. Snape entered the tavern, leaving her alone on the streets of Knockturn Alley. It was the darkest place Hermione had ever been. Not only because the black clouds of the night choked out the moon and stars, but because of the darkness Hermione felt all around her from the dilapidated buildings and the hatred that seemed to radiate from them. Hermione looked down at her appearance. She was trying so hard to look like she belonged, but she had never felt more out of place. The outfit was meant to project sexuality, something she was not accustomed to. It made her feel dirtier than the grime that coated the handrail leading up to the entrance to the tavern did. It had been two minutes, she reasoned. She bit her lip, clenched her fists, and breathed deep before entering the Thirsty Dragon.

The scene inside was like nothing she had ever seen before. The people inside were rowdy, loud, and definitely sloshed. She saw Rodolphus Lestrange seated at the bar, several empty glasses in front of him. He wasn’t a bad looking fellow, but he certainly wasn’t the sort Hermione would like to become involved with. She studied him discreetly from across the room. Lestrange had a muscular frame but he was lean, with a sculpted face and dark brown hair that reminded her of Harry’s. It was untidy and seemed too long for his face. He had an aggressive manner about him that made Hermione uneasy. She surveyed the room to spot Snape. She found him seated alone at a table about fifteen feet from Rodolphus’s stool. He was sipping Firewhisky from a glass. She walked over to the bar and took the unoccupied stool next to Rodolphus. The barkeeper, a gruff, old man with yellow teeth and skin like leather took her order. She had never drank hard liquor before, but she didn’t want to give herself away by ordering a Butterbeer. She ordered a Firewhisky and took a sip. It was repulsive, but she tried not to let it show that she thought so. 

She sat there for a few minutes, hoping Rodolphus would notice her without her having to say anything. He didn’t. He was wrapped up in telling tales of his experience in the First Wizarding War. Hermione overheard him recount in disgustingly vivid detail memories of people he had killed and women he had slept with. She could decide which stories disgusted her more. She glanced back at Snape. He was watching intently from underneath his hood. She gave him a look as if to ask, “What now?” She saw him give an imperceptible nod in Rodolphus’s direction. A scowl crossed her lips, but she erased it quickly. She resolved to get this thing over with as quickly as possible. She laid a hand on Rodolphus’s shoulder. “You’re Rodolphus Lestrange, aren’t you?”

“Who’s asking,” he slurred before he turned around. Once he turned to face her, his tone became less harsh. “Well, look what we have here. Yes, I’m Rodolphus Lestrange. And you are?”

“You can call me Delilah. Sorry to bother you, but I overheard you talking about your adventures serving the Dark Lord. To have done so much for him, you must be one of his favorites.” 

“Why, yes. In fact, my wife and I are two of his most loyal and trusted servants.”

“You mean Bellatrix.”

“I see you know quite a bit about the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, word gets around. You’re very famous. It’s an honor to meet you.” 

Rodolphus took her hand and kissed it. Hermione did her best not to cringe at his touch. “The pleasure’s all mine, beautiful.”

Hermione smiled. “Do you think you could tell me more about it?”

“I could. If there is anything going on with the Dark Lord, I know about it. But sorry, honey, this stuff is top secret. The Dark Lord would kill me if I told.”

She gave her best attempt at flirtation. She placed a hand on his knee. “What if I promise not to tell? Please?”

“Well, as long as you promise.”

Hermione made an “X” across her chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Well, right now, he has most of us out hunting.”

“Hunting who?”

“Why, Harry Potter of course! Supposedly, Potter is traveling with two other Hogwarts students – the youngest Weasley boy, bunch of damned blood traitors, and some Muggle-born whore named Granger.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah, that’s not the most interesting part. The Dark Lord thinks they are also being helped by one of his former servants - a traitor by the name of Severus Snape. We’re looking for all of them with strict orders to bring them to the Dark Lord so he can dispose of them personally. He wants to make them suffer, I imagine. Although I hope he lets me take out Snape myself.”

“Why is that?”

“Didn’t I just tell you? He’s a traitor. We had captured Harry Potter in London. We took him and his friends back to Malfoy Manor. Snape convinced the Dark Lord to let him take the lead on getting rid of the Mudblood girl. Said she had made him look like an idiot in class. Turns out he was stalling. He sure was convincing, though. He made the filthy girl scream and squirm from all the pain. It was a fantastic show, but it was a distraction. Next thing you know, Potter and Weasley had disappeared. Turns out, Snape had slipped a Portkey into Potter’s pocket. Guess all those years of being Dumbledore’s little bitch got him. Anyway, the Dark Lord was going to kill him, but the Mudblood got hold of him and they Disapparated. We’ve been searching for them ever since. If I catch the big-nosed bastard, I’ll string him up by his greasy hair and hex him ‘til he pisses himself and begs me for mercy. Then I’ll take him to the Dark Lord. There’s nothing I hate worse than a traitor…no better than a Mudblood if you ask me.”

Hermione wanted badly to curse the smug grin off the bastard’s face, but knew she had to keep up appearances a little longer. “So, are you and Bellatrix out hunting Harry Potter as well, or has he given you a more important task, you know, since you are his most…trusted soldiers.”

“More important than catching Harry Potter? Right now, there’s nothing more important to the Dark Lord. Dumbledore is already out of the way. Once Snape is punished for his treachery and Potter is out of the way, there will be nothing standing in the way of the Dark Lord ruling the Wizarding World. And if anyone tries, we’ll kill ‘em. But first things first, The Dark Lord says we got to take care of Potter. That will snuff out any hope that Mudbloods and Muggle lovers might have of standing up against the Dark Lord.”

Hermione made up her mind that she had to get out of this place soon. She saw her chance to steer the conversation where it needed to go. “You know, I’ve heard rumors that the Dark Lord can’t die.”

“That’s no rumor, sweetheart. That’s a fact.”

“But…how is that possible?” 

“You ever heard of a Horcrux?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Well, basically, the Dark Lord has split his soul into six pieces. He stores the pieces in various objects. As long as the objects are intact, the Dark Lord indeed can’t die.”

Hermione’s heart began to race. This was the moment of truth. “Have you ever seen any of these Horcruxes?”

“Just two of them. One of them is his snake. He keeps her with him wherever he goes. That way he knows she’s safe. He spread the others out. But recently, he’s been getting paranoid. He went looking for one of his Horcruxes –a locket that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. He had hid it in a cave and it was not there when he went back to check on it. So, he decides he wants to gather up the rest of them and keep them with him. He sent me to Gringotts to get a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. I delivered to him personally. Well, Bellatrix and I did.” 

“Wow. He must trust you a lot. Will you excuse me to the loo for a moment?”

His hand found its way to her knee. “Come on, gorgeous, I answered all your questions. It’s time I get a little something in return.”

“And you will, I just need to freshen up a bit. I’ll be right back.” His grip tightened on her knee. “Ouch. That hurts.”

He moved his hand to from her knee to her bottom. “There. Is that better?” Hermione struggled to free herself from his grasp. This infuriated him further. He pulled her closer to him. “You’re trying to walk out on me, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

His free hand locked around her neck. “You’re lying to me. Who are you?”

“I already told you my name. You’re hurting me. Let go.” 

“You little slut. You think you can come in here and tease me then just leave when you get bored? I don’t tolerate tarts who try to make a fool out of me.” He raised his hand and offered to strike her with the back of it before he was sent flying over the bar, breaking several bottles as he crashed into the wall. 

Hermione looked up. Snape had risen, his eyes still obscured by his hood and his wand raised. Rodolphus staggered to his feet. “You son of a bitch,” he spat. “Who are you?”

Snape said nothing, but stood with his wand trained on Rodolphus.

“Answer me!” Rodolphus’s face was blood red. Snape moved closer to Hermione. “Oh no, you don’t. I saw her first.” Rodolphus grabbed for Hermione. Snape stepped between them, but was met with a blast from Rodolphus’s wand. Snape was sent barreling into a table, flipping it over as he fell. 

Rodolphus’s hand grabbed Hermione’s arm with merciless pressure. “Come on, girly. You’re coming with me.”

“Let her go.” Snape’s hood had fallen down as he made it to his feet. His wand was once again pointed at the Death Eater. 

Rodolphus looked at him with incredulity. “Snape.” He looked at Hermione with a sick mixture of disgust and triumph. “That must make you Potter’s Mudblood. Well, well…looks like I am about to make the Dark Lord very happy. I wonder how he will reward me for bringing him the man who stabbed him in the back along with his filthy Mudblood whore?” 

Hermione looked nervously at Snape, but his eyes were fixed on Rodolphus. She had seen her professor angry on more occasions that she could count, but she had never seen him like this. More than anger, now there was hatred in his expression. Rodolphus smiled at him, knowing he had struck a nerve. “Of course, you always did have a fondness for Mudbloods, didn’t you, Severus? What was that Potter woman’s name? Lily. That’s it. Well, Severus, I hate to tell you this, but this one here’s going to meet the same fate as Lily did. I doubt, though, that the Dark Lord will take out this trash as quickly and mercifully as he took out that filthy Potter woman. Maybe if you cooperate, the Dark Lord will tell you about how hard she begged for him to spare her and her son. I always get a laugh out of that story. But there’s no time now. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, old friend.” He pointed his wand at Severus. Hermione pulled on his arm with all the strength she could muster in an attempt to throw him off balance. His Body-Bind curse missed Snape’s head by little more than a foot. He turned his attention to Hermione, his eyes full of rage. “You filthy Mudblood!” He pointed his wand at her. “You deserve every bit of this.” 

He was cut off by a green flash from Snape’s wand accompanied by the unforgivable words that Hermione had never heard uttered before. Lestrange dropped to the floor. Snape hurried to Hermione’s side. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Can we please get out of here?” Severus took her by the hand and the two of them vanished with a loud crack, leaving the tavern’s patrons in shock and the corpse of Rodolphus Lestrange lying on the liquor-soaked floor.

When the pair reappeared in their room at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably. She buried her face in Severus’s chest and he felt her tears soak through his shirt. He felt horribly guilty for what she had just been forced to endure. How could he have suggested something like that? He was turning into Dumbledore, using and manipulating people for the furthering of some cause. He had lied to Potter and Weasley about his plan, knowing they would object, as well they should have. They had trusted him, after everything, to keep Hermione safe. She had trusted him to keep her safe as well. He had failed miserably. He had led her into a situation that almost claimed both of their lives. If Rodolphus’s curse had hit him, Snape would be dead and Hermione would be in the clutches of the Dark Lord, no doubt being tortured for information. “I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I should never have suggested that we go there. I put you in grave danger.” 

She looked up at him. The tears that had been streaming down her face had caused noticeable lines to appear in her makeup. She looked nothing like the fresh-faced, innocent girl that Snape had known in her earliest days at Hogwarts. Growing up was a natural process, but Hermione had been forced to do it at a breakneck pace much earlier than she should have. The girl that had once worried about House Points and making sure her Forgetfulness Potion was brewed correctly now had to worry about being assaulted by grown men, tortured, or even killed. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “It’s okay, Professor. We needed the information. It’s a war now. Everyone has to make sacrifices – even me.”

As he looked down at her, he felt immense pity and great shame for what she had gone through. Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Severus had wondered several times why Hermione had not been sorted into Ravenclaw House. After all, she was, by quite a large margin, the most gifted student of her year. Looking into her eyes now, he understood that she belonged in Gryffindor. Looking into her eyes, Severus could tell she was afraid. Some might have thought this to be inconsistent with the bravery that was the trademark of Gryffindor House, but Severus knew better. He understood that in order to demonstrate true courage, one first had to experience great fear. “It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I apologize.”

She laid her head once more on his chest. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Professor. You saved my life…again. I owe you so much, I don’t think I can repay you.” 

She looked up at his face again. Tears were welling in his eyes, but he fought them back. He had to be strong. He brought a hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears still streaming down her face. “You don’t owe me anything, understand?” He gazed into her eyes for a few moments before she gave a slight nod. “Good, now get your things ready. We can’t stay here much longer.”

“Where are we going? We don’t know where You-Know-Who is.”

“No, but I know someone who does. Getting the information from her won’t be easy though, I’m afraid.”

“Her? Who are you talking about? Where are we going?”

Snape’s expression became solemn. “Narcissa Malfoy. I’m sorry, but we must return to Malfoy Manor.”

“Is that safe?” 

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“While you were talking to Lestrange, I probed his thoughts to determine if he was telling you the truth. He was, might I add, but while inside his mind, I also came across something I did not recognize—a place I have never seen before. I believe The Dark Lord has moved from Malfoy Manor to this new location. For what reason, I don’t know and Lestrange didn’t seem to have an answer either.”

Hermione worked her bottom lip between her teeth as she analyzed everything Snape had told her. They had to figure out where the Dark Lord had gone in order to get the Horcruxes. She had just dealt with a drunken idiot; Narcissa Malfoy couldn’t be much worse, right? “Alright. Just give me a minute to get everything together.” 

Hermione closed the door to the loo and turned on the sink. She rubbed her face furiously in an attempt to remove the layers of caked on makeup that had been made even more hideous to her by the lines created by her tears. Her face had grown quite pink by the time she had satisfactorily removed the paint from it. She quickly kicked off her shoes and took off the ghastly dress she had been forced to wear and changed into more appropriate clothing. 

She came back into the bedroom and handed the dress and shoes back to Snape. “You can have these back.”

Snape stifled a smile. “I’m not sure what use I have for them.”

“You have as much use for them as I do. Burn them for all I care.”

“Very well then.” He placed the garments in the middle of the floor. “Incendio.” 

Hermione watched as the dress and shoes transformed into a pile of ash. “Thanks. Hopefully I won’t have to use my ‘womanly charms’ any more on this mission. If wearing something that degrading is what it takes to be considered attractive, then I’d rather just be ordinary.”

“Hermione, you’re not ordinary. Believe me when I say I wasn’t trying to improve your looks by forcing you into that outfit, but merely to cater them to the tastes of a very twisted, very dark mind. You are much more appealing in your usual clothing.” Hermione appeared taken aback. She stared at him, a shocked expression on her face. “What?”

“You called me Hermione.”

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?”

“It is, but you’ve always called me Miss Granger.”

“Yes, well, I figure that you’ve endured more than most adults could even imagine. I suppose I can stop addressing you as if you were still a child.”

She smiled slightly. “Well, I suppose you’re right. It just sounded weird.” She drew in a deep breath. “I guess we should be off then?” He responded with a nod and she grabbed his arm. Within a second, both of them were gone, leaving behind only a pile of ashes on the floor of their room.

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and welcomed. I can only hope each of you finds as much enjoyment from reading this as I did writing it! Thanks to all of you who continue to read and review!

Just in case you were wondering, the name Hermione gives Lestrange has a back story. I chose the name Delilah in an attempt to liken her to Delilah, the temptress from the Hebrew Bible (Judges Chapter 16 for those interested). In case you are not familiar, Delilah was responsible for learning Samson’s secrets and eventually betraying him to his enemies. It seemed fitting. Again, just in case you were trying to figure out how my ridiculous mind functions.


	15. The Sins of Narcissism

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 14**

The Sins of Narcissism 

Apparating from London to Wiltshire took a matter of seconds, but it seemed like hours for Hermione, who was dreading every minute of stepping foot back on the Malfoy property. When her feet touched solid ground, she opened her eyes expecting to find herself surrounded by dozens of Death Eaters eagerly waiting to take her to death. She saw nothing of the sort. What she did see, however, was a hedge some ten feet high on either side of her, which lined a broad, winding, white-graveled drive. She could hardly make out a large structure several hundred feet in front of her, no doubt the house itself.

“It’s best not to linger,” Severus said, walking at a rather brisk pace toward the house. “Follow me.”

Hermione had to run to catch up to him, but fell into place at his side. “Do you think there is anyone else here?”

“Lucius, as you know, is at Hogwarts. I highly doubt the Dark Lord will allow him to leave his post. Draco has most likely stayed at the castle with his father. I suspect it will only be Narcissa. As for anyone else, I don’t think so. It appears the Dark Lord has moved, so there would no reason for any of them to stay behind.”

“I guess you’re right. If anyone were here, they would have noticed us by now.”

“You don’t realize the accuracy of such a statement. While the Dark Lord was stationed here, he had enchantments set up around the perimeter of the Malfoy estate. If anyone Apparated in, he would be aware of it.”

Hermione paled slightly. “Do you think he knows now?”

“No, I would imagine he saw no need to keep them intact. I doubt he suspected anyone of consequence coming to call on the Malfoys, least of all me. I don’t believe he would think me that ignorant.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I guess you proved him wrong.”

“Yes,” Severus said, trying out a smile of his own, “I suppose I did.”

The two of them continued to walk down the darkened drive. There was no sound but that of the gravel crunching under their shoes. The house was finally coming into view, and Hermione tried in vain to suppress a shudder that ran through her body. The display of anxiety didn’t go unnoticed by Snape, who placed a hand on her back to keep her moving. As they neared the end of the drive, they came to an impressive, intricately designed wrought-iron gate. “Let me do the talking,” he said, motioning for her to stay a few steps behind him.

“Talking? Talk to wh—” Before Hermione could finish, a horrendous screeching sound filled her ears. She jumped backwards, reaching for her wand out of instinct. She watched from behind Snape as the gate’s bars contorted into an irritated looking face. Whoever was responsible for this sort of magic had gone above and beyond. The face carried the signature sneer and churlishness of the Malfoy family, down to the way its iron nose wrinkled in disgust for having been disturbed. 

“Who are you and what business do you have here?” the gate demanded. 

“My name is Severus Snape and I come here with a message for the mistress of this house.”

The iron face smirked at him. “A message you say? And who might this message be from?”

“It comes from the Dark Lord himself,” Snape lied. “It is most important that you allow me to pass.”

The gate frowned. “Who are you?”

“I told you. My name is—”

“Not you, idiot,” the gate snapped, “the one who stands behind you.” 

This time it was Severus’s turn to scowl. “She is what is to be delivered, you incessant pile of scrap! She is a prisoner to be kept in this house until the Dark Lord comes for her.”

The gate opened its imaginary mouth as if to speak, but Severus quickly stifled any such notion. “I have answered your questions. If you do not let me through, I will blast you off your hinges!” 

The gate looked utterly stricken for a moment, its metal mouth sputtering slightly as it tried to come up with something to say in response to his threat. It eventually gave in, as it was, after all, just a gate and of no equal match to a seemly agitated wizard. “Very well, Severus Snape. You may pass.” 

In an instant, the face disappeared and the gate swung open, revealing Malfoy Manor in all of its splendid glory. Malfoy Manor stood four stories high, with several large windows covering its front. A soft glow came from many of the windows, slightly refracted by the diamond shaped etchings that covered them. The six shingled spires attached to its roof, glistened in the moonlight, as they were covered with a fine layer of dew that had turned to frost in the cold night air. It was stunning and terrifying at the same time. Stunning because Hermione had never seen such a magnificent home, especially in the rural parts of England and terrifying because she knew the beautiful exterior hid the madness found within. In a way, she likened the home to the Malfoys for the same reason. As Hermione thought about it, she realized each person in the Malfoy family had a pleasing outward appearance, but inside, they were filled with hatred and malevolence.

“That gate was rather unsettling,” Hermione said awkwardly as they approached the house. “Even the curtilage behaves as they do.” 

“What else would you expect from people who value such trivial things? If you think the Malfoy family iron concierge thought highly of itself, I am afraid you are in for an even bigger shock when we meet with Narcissa.” 

“How do you know you can trust her to tell you the truth?” 

“She will tell the truth because she has an agenda just like everyone else. Even though she would never admit it, she grows tired of the situation. Just remember to keep your mouth closed. Narcissa has a sharp tongue and an equally offensive wit. She will not touch you, but her words will sting, I have no doubt.”

“I’ll remember that,” Hermione said as she and Snape climbed the steps leading to the entrance of the manor. Severus rapped on the door and seconds later, one of the Malfoy house elves opened the large wooden door.

“Master Snape, sir. You are not welcome at Malfoy Manor, sir! Mistress Malfoy is taking no visitors and not you for sure!”

“You will fetch your mistress, or I shall drag her out by the blonde hair of her head.” The tiny elf glared at Snape, then disappeared, slamming the door in both of their faces.

“That worked well,” Hermione said with a hint of sarcasm.“Threatening the poor creature might not have been the best idea.” 

Severus rolled his eyes. “No, but threatening Narcissa will draw her from her hole.” 

A few moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a dreadfully irked-looking Narcissa Malfoy. She was a Pureblood by every sense of the word. An air of sophistication came from her, though Hermione was convinced it was a false sense of superiority parading around in sophistication’s clothing. Hermione couldn’t deny that she truly was a sight for the eyes. She wore a deep blue dress that was tailored in all the right places. Her blonde hair was swept to the side and fell in long ringlets down her slim shoulders. She would have been a lovely woman had it not been for her expression. It was unfeeling and cold, but not nearly as frigid as her piercing, judgment-casting eyes. Narcissa wrinkled her nose in disgust when she spotted Hermione behind Snape. “You should not be here, Severus. Nor do I appreciate you bringing such muck to my doorstep.”

“Where are your manners?” Severus chided, leading Hermione past the slim woman and into the foyer. “For someone of such high _status_ , you have the civility of a warthog, Narcissa. You should work on that.”

“How dare you speak to me that way! You’re a miserable quim of a man, Severus Snape. You have no right to show your face here. I demand you leave my home this instant.”

“Don’t be melodramatic. It works for Bellatrix, but it is rather unbecoming for you. And I am not leaving; not until I speak with you first.”

“Then speak to me, so that I may rid myself of you!”

“Where is he?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy, Narcissa. You were never good at it.”

Narcissa raised her hand as if to strike him across the face, but Severus grabbed the blonde woman by the throat, shoving her hard against the dark mahogany paneled wall. “Perhaps I did not make my point clear enough for your asinine mind to comprehend. Do not be a fool. Answer my question.”

Narcissa laughed haughtily. “What are you going to do, Severus? Kill me? You don’t have it in you.”

Severus tightened his grip, cutting her mirth in half. “Your brother-in-law shared that exact opinion. He now lays lifeless in that hub of crapulence he frequents.”

Narcissa looked up at him through ice-cold, narrowed eyes. They were the eyes of a woman scorned—a woman who hung steadfastly to the past, while vehemently denying the present. Anger, weariness, and trepidation could be found in the depths of her blue eyes. Narcissa kept a brave face, but her eyes betrayed her. She was tired of the charade. “You come into my home, lay your hands on me as if I were common chattel and expect me to assist you? You are a bigger cretin than I thought.”

“I can always take what I want, but that would be most improper and somewhat unpleasant for you. I’m asking you again, Narcissa, and this will be the last time - where has the Dark Lord gone?”

“If I tell you, what will you give me in return?” 

“Your life, perhaps? I know how highly you think of yourself, you couldn’t bear the thought of a world without yourself in it.” 

“My life is already forfeit, Severus.” Her voice carried a serious tone. Hermione almost felt sorry for her. Almost. 

“Then you have nothing to lose.”

“I have everything to lose!” she squealed, pushing his hand from her neck. “My family is in shambles, I fear for the lives of my son and husband daily. The Dark Lord—he is just waiting for Lucius to slip. All he needs is an excuse and Lucius is dead. He plays us against one another, for his own gain. You know how he operates. If I tell you, he will punish me, or worse, he will use that dishonor to go after Draco or Lucius. That is something I could not bear!”

“The Dark Lord has his hands full at the moment. The men in your life are the least of his worries.”

“Don’t be a naïf, Severus. The Dark Lord is furious. He is killing those loyal to him left and right. I witnessed a gruesome display just this morning that will haunt me till I reach my grave. So don’t you stand there and try to feed me such rubbish. He would do it just to prove that he could.” 

“Then he must never know.”

“No secrets can be kept from him. It isn’t worth my family to help you.”

“Narcissa, I have spent the last sixteen years of my life lying to the Dark Lord. It is not impossible.”

“Given your current situation, I would say you are slipping. Regardless, it doesn’t matter, the Dark Lord would see through the pretense.”

“Then this conversation must never take place.”

Narcissa’s eyes went wide as she understood his meaning. He was giving her an escape by means of Obliviation. “You would do that? After everything that has occurred? After what Lucius did to you?”

“Yes. I do not wish death for you.” 

She arched her finely trimmed eyebrows. “Really? If I may recall, you had a certain conversation with Lucius not three days ago. You threatened my life if he refused your demands. That does not sound like someone who is trying to keep me alive. You are worse than a woman, Severus. Make up your mind.”

“Your husband is easy to handle, I’m sure you know that better than most. If you know what a man values, you know how to move him. He can be manipulated like a pawn on a chessboard.”

“Your stunt did not sit well with the Dark Lord. Lucius continues to pay for your misdeeds.”

“Then tell me where the Dark Lord is, Narcissa. Tell me so that he may pay for his sins!”

Narcissa stood quietly, weighing all of her options. Before her was the man who had betrayed them all—the reason for the Dark Lord’s sudden rash behavior. If she had any sense about her, she would have handed him over right then, along with the Mudblood standing in her foyer. The Malfoy family would be vindicated, and all would be right and as it should be. Rightfully so, Narcissa Malfoy was not a sensible woman. The Dark Lord’s favor did not influence her after he had threatened those she loved. The vindictive side of her was showing itself, just as Severus had expected. He knew she would agree to help him, because either way, she would win. If by some chance the Dark Lord met his death, her family would be free. If Severus were to die, she would get her sweet revenge for the person who was responsible for her family’s current state. Either he or the Dark Lord would pay the price and Narcissa Malfoy would walk away unscathed. 

“They are at the Riddle House,” she said finally. “In Little Hangleton. He moved there just this morning after the executions were carried out.”

“How many does he have with him?”

“That I don’t know. The numbers are changing by the hour.”

“Do you know of any defenses?”

Narcissa laughed. ”Defenses are beneath him, you should know that. The Dark Lord harbors the illusion that he does not need protection. However, the house itself is enough to cause a passerby to shy away. It is…deplorable,” she said, casting a quick glance at Hermione. “Something fitting for a Mudblood or Muggle.”

Hermione simply smiled at her as she continued to bite her tongue as she had been instructed. The tension between the two witches was escalating to a new height and Severus knew their exit was drawing near. 

“Thank you, Narcissa,” he said with a nod.

“Don’t thank me. I’ve just led you to the Devil’s den.” Narcissa looked back at Hermione, her features taking on their usual coldness. “Such a shame, you have taken up with the likes of that one. You have sacrificed a great deal for someone who isn’t worthy. Her kind deserves nothing but a good and proper horse-whipping to remind them of their proper place in this world.”

Hermione could contain her anger no longer. She advanced on the statuesque blonde, jabbing her wand into the pale skin of her neck. “You vile, sorry excuse for a witch! The only people who deserve a good thrashing are those who bend over backwards to give the Dark Lord a platform to stand on. You, Mrs. Malfoy, are no better than the animal you claim me to be! ”

Narcissa Malfoy had brandished her own wand, and had it aimed discreetly at Hermione’s torso. “You dare turn your wand to me, you little bitch! You are deserving of nothing and you will get what is coming to you my dear. I can only hope to get my fair share of you for what troubles you have caused me and my family!”

Severus sent a Disarming Spell in their direction. Both of their wands flew out of their hands and clattered to the floor. Hermione spun around to face Snape, her face flushed with anger and frustration. “You will not stoop to her level of depravity. Go, wait for me outside.” Hermione shot one final glare at the older woman, before retrieving her wand and leaving the house.

As soon as Hermione closed the heavy wooden door, Narcissa Malfoy found herself at the business end of Snape’s wand. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully, you dull fuckwit. Hermione Granger is deserving of _everything_ , including my sacrifices. I have already surrendered a great deal for the Dark Lord, and I will do it no longer. It is time I do what is right, whether it be for her, me, or anyone else involved in this abomination.” 

“Spoken like a true noble.”

“Hardly,” Snape replied, turning for the door. 

Narcissa began to scramble when she realized he was leaving. The wrath that filled her eyes before was now replaced with desperation. “Wait! Where do you think you’re going? We had a deal, Snape! The Dark Lord, he’ll know I’ve told you!” 

Snape stopped just as he opened the door. His face was just as cold and condemning as her could be. “It burns you to have come so close, doesn’t it? To have a way to defend your pathetically desperate existence only to watch it slip through your fingers, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as the gutless swine you are. I have no deal for you. Not after you threatened her. Let _your_ Dark Lord do with you what he sees fit.” Severus walked through the door, leaving a very distressed Narcissa Malfoy to her fate. 

As Snape walked from the front steps, his gaze drifted to the expanse of land that met the edge of the veranda. A faint glow of light some distance away caught his attention. He could hardly make out Hermione’s small frame, as it was partially obstructed by the wildly flailing branches of the weeping willow she was sitting under, but he knew it was her. He started toward her, pulling his cloak around him to block out the crisp winter wind. As she came into focus, Severus could see her knees were tucked under her chin as she stared into the glowing ball of blue flame that was floating a foot or so in front of her. If her posture wasn’t enough to give the hint of provocation, her silent tears would have been more than sufficient. 

“Hermione?” She gave every indication that she hadn’t heard him utter a word. He tried once more, this time placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hermione?”

The blue ball of flame she was concentrating on took on the appearance of a miniature sun as it flared angrily. The small blue prominences it threw off sizzled and cracked in the cold night air. Snape knew he had better tread theses waters carefully, as the girl before him was still quite upset. “If you are here to berate me for my outburst, spare me,” she hissed. “That…that woman is lucky I have a conscience or she would have found herself scrubbing drops of her precious pureblood from her carpets for weeks!”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what on earth to say to pacify her. “May I sit down?” Hermione never said a word, but slid down the marble bench, making a place for him on the end. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Snape cast a Disillusionment Charm over the both of them and took the empty seat beside her. She never offered to speak, so he just waited. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there in the dark before he finally decided the silence had gone on long enough.

“Those look oddly familiar,” Severus said, nodding toward her Bluebell Flames. 

“I’m sure they do. They are simple to produce.”

“I know that better than most, actually. It might be a trick of my memory, but during the school term of ninety-one, it seemed that this same kind of flame found its way to the tail end of my frock.”

Hermione shot him a quick glance, looking like she had been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar. Snape knew he had managed to make a crack in her defenses with such a comment. He seized the opportunity to get straight to the point. “In all seriousness, are you well?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Though I must admit, I felt like I could strangle the life from her.”

Snape did not try to conceal the smile that found its way to his lips. “I told you Narcissa Malfoy was a crass cow, did I not?”

“Yes, yes you did. I don’t think I was as prepared for her tactlessness as I first thought.”

“You most certainly were not. Few people know how to handle Narcissa, though I commend you for showing the amount of restraint you displayed.”

“If shoving my wand down her throat is what you call restraint, I would hate to see what you consider flying off the handle.”

“I think you witnessed my definition of ‘flying off the handle’ just this afternoon,” he replied stiffly.

Snape had disposed of two of Voldemort’s followers since Hermione had been with him. Both times, she had seen it first hand, and for that he was ashamed, though he knew they were necessary fatalities. They were in a war, and wars had been known to claim the lives of many. He reviled the thought of taking another’s life, but he liked to believe he saved countless others by ridding the world of such beasts as Alecto Carrow and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Hermione noticed his sudden change in demeanor, realizing the current topic of conversation wasn’t one he was especially fond of. “That’s water under the bridge.” She seemed to be reassuring him just as much as she was herself. “We have bigger worries than what took place today.”

“Indeed.”

Hermione shifted, really looking at her professor for the first time since the two of them had taken residence on the bench beneath the willow. He was looking at nothing, but he seemed extremely focused with his gaze. Though his face took on the familiar somber pose, Hermione could see he was struggling with some unnamed inner turmoil. Her eyes traveled down his pale face, finally resting on his hands. They were loosely linked together by his slim fingers. She fought off the urge to reach out and take them in her own. Her opinion of Severus Snape had changed considerably once she was able to see him in a setting other than Hogwarts. To be quite honest, if someone had told her that she would be sitting next to the sour man contemplating touching him in a way she would a very dear friend, she would have laughed in their face and directed them to St. Mungo’s. 

The longer she looked at him, the more she realized she no longer thought of him the same way. He wasn’t Professor Snape, the cold and calloused Potions master of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but rather Severus Snape, the man who was just as human and just as affected by this as the rest of them. Fresh tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she desperately fought them off. Snape didn’t deserve her tears. No, he was deserving of so much more than that and she would offer it to him, whether he wanted it or not.

Hermione stood, extinguishing the Bluebell flames. The unexpected plunge into darkness jolted him from his own mind. Snape looked up to see Hermione, her hand extended toward him. “Let’s go home,” she said softly. 

Severus regarded her outstretched hand a moment, before his eyes found her face. The soft glow of the moon settled on her youthful features, almost giving the illusion that she was glowing faintly on her own. It wasn’t her appearance that threw him off, but something about the way she was looking at him caused his breath to hitch in his throat. He hadn’t seen a look like that directed at him for more than twenty years. Over the course of his life, he had convinced himself that he would never receive this sort of look for the remainder of his days, but here it was, and radiating from the most unlikely of people. A look of knowing is how he would have described it. It was the sort of look a person would give if they knew exactly what someone needed and they had that something to give. Severus knew he should have turned her away, rebuked her even for offering such a terribly valued gift. 

He knew without a shadow of a doubt there would be absolutely no preventing what had already begun between them. The moment he grabbed her hand, he would go back on the promise he made to himself the night they traveled to Hogwarts. He knew the moment he grabbed her hand, she would cease to be his student and would become a friend that he could so desperately use. Forgetting his screaming sense of judgment and reason, he stood and placed his hand around hers. _To hell with common sense and reason_ , he thought. The two of them disappeared, hand in hand, from the darkened Malfoy estate with a thunderous crack.

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Author’s Notes:

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Special thanks to all my faithful readers. You people make writing all the more enjoyable!


	16. Mental Musings

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

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**Chapter 15**

Mental Musings 

It was nearing nine in the evening when Severus and Hermione arrived back at the safe house. Hermione went to the washroom to prepare herself for bed. Severus reclined on the sofa and tried his best not to think of anything whatsoever. It didn’t work. His mind raced from one thing to another. He saw Hermione in the Thirsty Dragon trying to fight off Rololphus’s advances. He saw the dead eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange staring up at him from the floor. Then, in an instant, he was back on the bench in front of Malfoy Manor with Hermione. He enjoyed that part. He wished that part would last forever because that was by far, one of the more pleasant memories floating in his mind. But it didn’t. All of a sudden he was overcome with sadness. First, he was in the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, looking over the ledge at Albus Dumbledore’s body lying lifeless on the ground below. Then, he found himself in Godric’s Hollow, holding Lily Evans in his arms. 

Snape’s mind was startled back to reality by the shifting cushions on the sofa. He opened his eyes to find Hermione sitting at the opposite end. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep. Just…thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Just…wondering how Potter and Weasley are progressing with their task,” he lied.

“Yeah, I’m worried about them. They haven’t tried to contact me, though,” she said, holding up a Galleon. “That’s got to be a good sign, right?” Severus said nothing, only giving a slight shrug in response. The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione spoke up again, “Can I ask you a question?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I suppose.”

“When you were telling the Dark Lord that I had made you look like a fool in class one day…what were you talking about?”

“That was just a lie to trick the Dark Lord into letting me dole out your punishment. I knew that I wouldn’t kill you, but I can’t say the same for anyone else that was in the room.”

“Oh, well…I was going to apologize for whatever it was I had done.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Snape stood up and stretched. “I’m going to get something to drink from the kitchen, would you like something?”

“Yes, please,” she managed, after stifling a yawn.

Severus strode off to the kitchen, his mind finally calm. For a few moments, he was able to push everything out of his mind – the war, Voldemort, his own sordid past, and think of nothing but the young witch sitting on the sofa. A smile crossed his face as he retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with water. He returned to the sitting room to find Hermione curled up on one end of the sofa, sound asleep. He sat the glasses of water on the end table, removed a blanket from the back of the sofa, and draped it over her. After taking his seat on the other end and quenching his thirst, he allowed himself to close his eyes. This time, much to his satisfaction, the memories that haunted him stayed at bay. For the first time in a long while, he was able to enjoy the moment in which he currently existed before dozing off.

*****

Harry and Ron stood on a hillside overlooking the Burrow. The two of them had decided to Apparate a safe distance from the house in case the property was being watched. They had watched the house all day from the security of a Disillusionment Charm. They had seen nothing suspicious, but decided to wait until it was late in the day just to be safe. The house that had several times served as a refuge for Harry from the pitiful existence he had in the Muggle world stood completely dormant. This was a stark contrast to the hive of activity that Harry had grown to consider his second home. No smoke rose from the crooked chimney. There were no signs of life at all. Harry looked at Ron. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re staying with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage. They figured You-Know-Who might come looking for them here to get information about you. They reckon he doesn’t know about Shell Cottage.”

“Good point. I don’t think anyone is inside. It looks completely deserted. Still, we should be careful. Where would the card be?”

“Mum keeps all the stuff like that in the top drawer of the dresser in her and Dad’s bedroom. It shouldn’t take long to find it.” 

“Well, that’s good. You ready?” Ron nodded. Harry gently pushed open the door. His wand was drawn in case the Weasleys’ suspicions had been correct and Voldemort really did have the Burrow under surveillance. As he crept through the kitchen on his way to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bedroom, he saw nothing out of the ordinary except for the fact that Mrs. Weasley’s clock, which told the whereabouts of each family member, had been removed from the wall and was nowhere to be seen. Another smart move by Mrs. Weasley, Harry thought. 

Harry and Ron made their way to the master bedroom. Ron walked over to the dresser, pulled out the drawer full of Mrs. Weasley’s mementos and sat it on the bed. Harry looked in awe at the sheer multitude of letters, cards, and photographs that Mrs. Weasley had accumulated over the years. “We’ll never find it in this mess.”

“It’s just from last Christmas, it should be near the top,” Ron replied as he continued to rummage through the drawer. Harry stared out the window into the abandoned garden that Mrs. Weasley had so loved to work in. He hated the fact that the entire family had had to alter their lives for him. It was his fault that the Weasleys were targets. They were Purebloods. Voldemort would have left them alone. But because of him, it couldn’t be that way. Like so many others, Harry had complicated their lives and dragged them into a life-or-death situation from which there may be no escape. Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by Ron’s voice. “Got it! Let’s get out of here.”

Before Harry could turn around, he heard a loud thud. He turned to see Ron lying on the floor, bleeding profusely, with the drawer on top of his chest and its contents strewn about the room. Harry looked up and drew his wand, finding himself eye to eye with Draco Malfoy. “Hello, Potter,” Malfoy spat, his lips twisted into an arrogant grin. 

“What the hell have you done to him?”

“I think you know the spell, Potter. After all, it was you who taught it to me. Surely you haven’t forgotten the incident in the bathroom when you tried to kill me? Do you remember the spell Snape used to stop the blood loss? I don’t. It’s a shame the old bastard isn’t here. I would have liked to have taken both of you to the Dark Lord. But I’m sure he’ll be satisfied with you, Potter.” Before the words could sink in, Draco shouted, “Petrificus Totalus.”

Harry was able to deflect the curse and countered with a Disarming Spell. Malfoy deflected his spell and shot back a series of hexes. Harry was knocked into the wall by a Knockback Jinx. As he struggled to make it up, Malfoy closed in on him. In desperation, Harry shot a Stunning Spell toward Malfoy. Luckily, it connected and sent the blond boy into the wall with a thud, knocking off a framed portrait of the Weasley family in the process. The two young wizards made it to their feet, both dizzy and disoriented. Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it at Harry. “Sectumsempra!”

Instinct took over as Harry dove out of the way of the curse. He took cover behind the bed and shot a few more Disarming Spells at Draco, none of which found their marks. Harry cursed his wand under his breath. More precisely, he cursed the spare wand he had packed. His wand had been confiscated by Death Eaters when they were captured. He had no idea where it was now, but wished he had it back. He had a connection with his wand that was clearly absent with the one he was using. That, coupled with his dizziness, was likely what was accounting for all of his spells being off target. _Alright, Potter, focus. You can do this. You can’t stay here all day. Ron is dying and only Snape knows how to save him. End this._

Harry rose from his cover and was immediately bombarded with curses from Malfoy’s wand. Luckily, he was able to deflect one of them back at Malfoy, knocking him off balance. This was the opening Harry needed. He shook his head violently to clear it and focused all of his thoughts on the spell as he cast it. “Expelliarmus!” A red stream of light projected from Harry’s wand, sending Draco into the wall and his wand into Harry’s hand. Draco made it to his feet uneasily, his face twisted in rage. Harry dropped to his knees beside Ron. As he looked up at Draco, he saw the grimace on the blond wizard’s face slowly turn into a smile. 

“Well, Potter, it’s been fun, but I’ve stayed in this dump long enough. I think I’ll be going now. You’re welcome to come after me, but I’m not sure how much time the Weasel there has left. The choice is yours.” With that, Malfoy vanished through the doorway. To Harry, there was no choice. Malfoy would have to go back to the Dark Lord and explain his failure. There was nothing Harry could do to him worse than the punishment he would receive from Voldemort. Harry checked Ron’s breathing. It was shallow, but at least he was alive. He pulled Ron into a seated position, grabbed hold of his shoulders and Disapparated.

*********

Severus was awakened from his sleep by a blood-curdling scream. He shot to his feet, flipping on the light nearest him in the process. Hermione was sitting straight up, breathing heavily, with tears streaming down her face. Snape went to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you hurt? Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

She was inconsolable. He could barely make out what she was saying through her sobs. He managed to decipher the words ‘Snatchers’ and ‘forest.’ He realized that she had been dreaming of the altercation with the Snatchers in the Forest of Dean. It was no wonder she was such an emotional wreck. Snape couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for a young woman to go through something like that. He felt a surge of sympathy overtake him and, before he knew it, he had thrown his arms around her, pulled her from the sofa, and pressed her tightly into his chest. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t real. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again. You have my word on that.”

She looked up at him with tear-soaked eyes. “How can you be sure?”

He took her face in his hands and wiped her tears. “Because I won’t let it. Until either The Dark Lord dies or I do, I promise I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

“A year ago you couldn’t stand the sight of me. Now you say you’d die trying to keep me safe? I don’t understand. What’s changed?” 

“A year ago I was a different person. A lifetime of misfortune and poor decisions had caused me to wallow in self pity. This self pity led to bitterness; a bitterness which consumed me. I know I was cold to you, but that was more a reflection of who I was than it was of who you were.”

Hermione looked at him, slightly confused. “Well…what changed?”

“I did, and mostly because of you.” She gave him an inquisitive look. Before she could say anything, he began to explain himself. “Being around you has made me look at things differently. It has given me a purpose… a reason to want to fight. I used to fight because I felt like I owed a debt to make up for my past transgressions, but now I fight for something, well, for someone actually.”

Snape’s statement did nothing to clarify things for Hermione. In fact, they made her even more puzzled. She stood silently for a few moments, trying to make sense of what her professor was saying. “Surely you aren’t talking about me. Why in the world would you want to fight for me? I’m not that impor—”

He tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. She stopped talking instantly when his dark eyes found hers. “Because, Hermione, you are worth it. Don’t you let the likes of Narcissa Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter, make you feel otherwise. You are good and decent and gifted beyond measure. You have your whole life ahead of you and you should have the chance to live it. The world, given its current state, could use a few more people like you.”

Hermione was overcome with emotion. Snape had spent the past six years telling her how insufferable she was and now he was gushing on and on about how great she was. She tried to figure out how she should feel. For six years she had tried her hardest to gain his approval and she had now obtained it. But she felt more than just the satisfaction of winning over her harshest critic; she realized she felt something for him. Friendship yes, but something else seemed to be lurking in the back of her mind. He had just informed her of her best qualities, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his. He was brilliant, brave, and, she now knew, decent. Was it possible she feel something stronger for her curt Potions master?

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to show through the hug how much she appreciated everything he had done for her since they had been saddled with each other. “Thank you. I know I’ve said it thousands of times before, but I don’t think I could ever thank you enough or repay you for everything you’ve done for me over the last few days.”

Severus wrapped his arms around her pushing her a little more into his chest. “And I have told you not to worry about that. I do the things I do it because I want too, not because it is expected, but because you deserve them.”

Hermione looked up at him, noticing the traces of a smile that had just graced his features. He didn’t smile often, but she was glad for it when he did. A smile was fitting for him, though she knew he would argue otherwise. Her eyes shifted to his lips and lingered there for a few moments. She realized in that instant that it was quite possible for her to feel something for Severus Snape. Especially when the thought of her lips coming to his crossed her mind. Sudden warmth flooded her face as she felt herself blush at such a thought. _Stop being stupid, Hermione,_ she thought, as she finally looked him in the eye. He was looking at her as if he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. It made her blush deepen when she realized he could easily discover her silly schoolgirl notions. 

_CRACK!_

The two of them released each other like they had just touched a live wire; their heads turning in less than a second toward the direction of the sound. It had come from the kitchen. Hermione shook her head to clear her clouded thoughts before drawing her wand. She took a step in the kitchen’s direction before being stopped by Snape’s outstretched arm. He held a finger to his lips, commanding her to be silent. He drew his own wand and crept as quietly as possible toward the kitchen. Hermione followed at a distance, not letting him out of her sight. He stopped at the end of the hallway. “Potter?! What the bloody hell?”

Hermione raced to the kitchen to find Harry standing over a bleeding Ron, his D.A. Galleon in his hand. “Oh thank God, you’re already here! I was trying to call you,” Harry began, his words loud and panicked. “Draco was hiding at the Burrow. He…he ambushed Ron. It’s the Sectumsempa Curse, Professor. I brought him back here so I could call you. I didn’t know where else to go. Can you fix him?”

Snape walked calmly but briskly to where Ron was lying and knelt beside him. “Miss Granger, if you have any more Dittany in that bag, I need it immediately.” Snape began uttering the Vulnera Satentur healing spell as he waved his wand over the gash. Just as when Harry had watched Snape heal Draco the previous year, the bleeding stopped the first time the incantation was said. Snape then repeated the incantation and the gash across Ron’s chest had closed up. Hermione ran back into the room as Snape repeated the spell once more. He took the phial of Dittany from her and poured it over the fresh scars on Ron’s chest. “His wounds are healed, but he has lost a great deal of blood. Is there anymore Blood-Replenishing Potion, Miss Granger?” 

“I don’t know. I’ll check.” She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a small phial. “Yes, I have some, but it isn’t much.” She handed it to Severus, who proceeded to empty its contents into Ron’s mouth.

“Is he going to be alright,” Harry asked nervously. 

“I believe so, Mr. Potter, but he won’t be on his feet for a while. He is going to need rest in order to recover. That being said, you should put him in his bed while I get this mess cleaned up.”

Harry nodded and pointed his wand at Ron and cast the Hover Charm. Ron’s body looked lifeless as it hovered in the air. Harry guided Ron’s body slowly and carefully down the narrow hallway to the bedroom Ron had been using. He was only gone a moment before returning to the kitchen. “So, why were you guys here, anyway? I thought you were doing research on how to destroy the Horcruxes.”

Hermione glanced nervously at Severus. “We…um…we went to Diagon Alley.”

“Diagon Alley?” Harry looked puzzled. “Were you looking for books on Horcruxes or something?” 

The questions were making Hermione uncomfortable. She couldn’t tell Harry what they had been doing. She knew he would overreact. “Well…not exactly, but we were looking for information.”

Severus broke in. “Mr. Potter, we were indeed looking for information on how to destroy the Horcruxes. The first step to destroying them is to find them. We went to Diagon Alley, and then to Knockturn Alley, to find someone who could help us do that, albeit unwittingly. I’m telling you this with the hope that you are mature enough to understand that sometimes we will have to do things that are risky; things that we don’t want to do, but must for the greater good.”

“With all due respect, Professor, who the hell are you to lecture me about being mature enough to understand that? In case you’ve forgotten, I’m marching to my death for the greater good. So spare me your condescension, Professor, I’m not a little boy anymore.”

“Very well. Miss Granger and I went to a tavern in Knockturn Alley. I knew a Death Eater named Rodolphus Lestrange would be there, and I knew there was a strong possibility that he knew about the Horcruxes. I knew he would recognize me no matter how drunk he was, so I came up with a plan for Miss Granger to get the information from him.”

Harry looked suspicious. “What sort of plan?”

“Not a very good one, it turns out. The plan was for Miss Granger to approach Lestrange at the tavern and appeal to his more prurient interests.”

“You mean flirt with him.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, unfortunately that is what I mean. Regrettably, things took a bad turn and I had to step in and resolve the situation.”

Harry’s suspicion seemed to be slowly turning to anger. “What do you mean things took a bad turn? What do you mean you had to resolve the situation?”

“I mean that Lestrange became belligerent and violent with Miss Granger and I was forced to turn my wand on him and take his life.”

“I can’t believe you two would lie to me!” He looked at Hermione. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, Harry, to be honest, we were afraid of how you would react. We figured you would try to talk us out of it. Professor Snape thought it best not to waste time arguing and not tell you and Ron what was going on.”

“I don’t give a damn what Professor Snape thought! I expect him to lie to me, but I don’t expect it from you, Hermione. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend, Harry. I’m insulted that you would say that. We’re all on the same side, here – you, me, Ron, and Professor Snape. We’re all trying to bring him down together.”

“Are we,” Harry snapped. “Are we really doing it together? Because if we were, I would think we would all be in on the plan. As it is, you just send Ron and I off like idiots without a clue what you two are doing.”

“Harry, try to understand where we were coming from…”

“No, Hermione, you try to understand where I’m coming from. Of course, you can’t. Neither of you can because there’s a chance that the both of you will make it out of this alive. I won’t. I’ve accepted that, and maybe this sounds selfish, but I think that since I’m willing to do that it’s the least you could do to be honest with me.”

Hermione hung her head. “I’m sorry, Harry. I…”

“There’s no need to apologize, Miss Granger. It was my idea to keep you in the dark, Mr. Potter, so if you are going to be angry with anyone, it should be me.”

“Well, I am angry – at both of you. But I’m not going to sit here and argue. I’m going to check on Ron.” With that, Harry vanished down the hallway. 

Severus walked over to Hermione, who he could see was trying very hard to keep herself from crying. He placed a hand on her back. “Don’t worry about it. We had no choice. It had to be done.”

“I know, it’s just, I…I don’t like lying to him. He’s right; I am supposed to be his friend. He doesn’t have very many people he can count on.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” 

“I know he’ll forgive me,” Hermione looked at Snape, tears welling in her eyes, “I just don’t know if he’ll ever trust me.”

Snape walked to the window and remained there for several minutes, deep in thought. The Dark Lord was hot on their tracks, he thought to himself. He didn’t have time to deal with mending the relationship of two teenagers. When he looked back at Hermione, however, he knew he had to do something. Despite his own feelings about the boy, it was clear to Severus how much Harry meant to Hermione. He knew she couldn’t be happy, and more importantly, she couldn’t be focused, if this rift was not healed. Snape started down the hallway. 

“Where are you going?”

“I have an idea,” Severus said, pausing briefly. “But I’ll need Potter’s help.” 

When Snape entered the room where Weasley was sleeping, Potter was sitting at the side of the bed, his back to the door. “Harry…” 

Potter turned around quickly, unaccustomed to the sound of his first name coming from Snape. “What do you want?”

“You can cut the attitude, Potter, I’m not here to lecture you. I’m actually here to ask you a favor.”

The expression on Harry’s face was an amalgam of shock, confusion, and incredulity. “You want me to do you a favor?”

“Yes. Well, more precisely, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will be the ones benefitting from it. I trust you have learned to block the connection between the Dark Lord’s mind and your own?” 

“Most of the time, yes. I’d probably be better at it if my teacher hadn’t stopped my lessons before they were over.”

“Your sarcasm is noted, Potter, but now is not the time for petty bickering. I know that you and I have not always seen eye to eye, but that is no longer important. You say that you want to know everything that is going on, that you don’t want to be in the dark. If that is to happen, we must take all measures to make sure that, should any of you be captured, you can conceal the information from the Dark Lord and his followers.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying that you and I will resume our Occlumency lessons, which should be very near completion. When we have finished, you will help me instruct Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley in the art. That is, of course, if you agree to do it.”

Harry sat for a moment, looking first at his unconscious friend, then at his former teacher. “If you swear that you won’t lie to me again; that you won’t keep things from me anymore…I’ll do it.”

“Very well. You and I will meet this evening to resume our lessons.” Snape exited the room, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah,” Harry said to no one in particular. “Can’t wait.”

*****

Harry didn’t know how long he had been by Ron’s bedside when he was awoken by Hermione’s voice, but it had been long enough for him to fall into a deep sleep in a chair that was far from comfortable. When he saw the plate of food in Hermione’s hand, he realized he had slept through lunch. “Professor Snape is ready for you in the basement as soon as you’re finished,” Hermione said. “I would have woken you to come and eat with us, but he said your mind had to be well rested for the lessons.”

“Oh,” Harry managed between bites. He hadn’t eaten much, as meals had become irregular and infrequent during his hunt for Horcruxes. Many times, he had simply forgotten to eat, having pushed hunger from his mind. He was well aware of how hungry he was at the moment, however, and very thankful to finally have a hot meal.

“Has Ron been awake at all?”

“No. He has been moaning sometimes, but it’s nothing coherent. He thrashes around a bit every now and then.”

“I’m sure he’ll be alright. Professor Snape said he would need to rest for a few days.” Harry did not answer, but merely nodded as he continued with his food. Hermione knew that Harry was less than thrilled to be resuming his Occlumency lessons with Snape. To say that their first round of lessons had not gone smoothly was an understatement. Still, she couldn’t bear the silence. “I’ll stay here with him while you are busy with your lessons…longer if you need me to. It would do you some good to lie down in a bed for a while, Harry, and I’ll be here if Ron wakes up or needs anything.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Harry stood up, having finished his meal. “I also suppose it’s time to get this over with.”

“Oh, try to have a positive attitude, Harry. It might not be so bad this time.”

“It’s always bad, Hermione. You’ll find that out soon enough.” 

Harry dropped his plate off in the kitchen before heading down to the basement. It was dimly lit and smelled quite musty. Snape was sitting in a wooden chair with his eyes closed. Harry wondered momentarily if he was asleep before he got his answer in the form of a voice inside his head.

_"No, Mr. Potter, I am not sleeping. You haven’t been down here for thirty seconds and I’ve already penetrated your mind. I see you haven’t been practicing."_

“Forgive me,” Harry replied audibly, his words dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Your sarcasm is unnecessary and unhelpful, Potter. Sit down.” Harry took a seat in the chair opposite Snape. “You know the routine. Guard your mind. Do not let me enter it. It is imperative that you and your friends be able to defend against the probes of the Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself should you be captured.” Snape raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and uttered the incantation, “Legilimens.”

Harry felt Snape enter his head immediately. His professor’s assault on his mind was not as strong as Voldemort’s, but it was difficult to repel nonetheless. Harry felt Snape watching him battle Draco at the Burrow. Harry concentrated, hiding the memory behind an image of a brick wall. He had managed to push Snape from the memory. 

_Well, that’s progress, but there is nothing personal about that one. Let’s see how you do with something more intimate._ Harry felt as if he had been jerked violently to one side. All of a sudden, he was watching himself and Ginny kissing in her bedroom at the Burrow. It was harder this time, but Harry managed to build another wall and keep Snape at bay. Better, Potter, but you’re still taking too long. You have to be able to shut me out completely. Harry concentrated as hard as he could as several memories flashed before his eyes in rapid succession. Amidst the confusion, Harry tried to clear his mind of everything except for the image of a brick wall. After intense concentration, Harry was able to construct a mental brick wall that extended as far as the eye could see in any direction. He saw dust fly from between the cracks in the bricks and he knew that Snape was ratcheting up his mental attack. He pushed his mind to new limits. He saw himself pushing as hard as he could against the wall, holding it up, refusing to let it crumble. He could feel his mind exerting itself beyond what it had ever done before. Black started to creep from the corners of his thoughts toward the center. He tried to fight it off, determined to prove to his resolve. After several minutes, Harry felt his knees shake and his hands tremble as they grabbed tightly the chair in which he sat. A few moments later, the blackness had conquered the entire landscape. Harry heard his body hit the ground with a thud before he lost consciousness.

Harry awoke the next morning in his bed. He had no idea how he got there or how long he had been asleep. He wandered down the hallway to the kitchen where Hermione was preparing breakfast. “Good morning, Harry. How are you feeling?”

“Like hell, thanks.” He sat at the table and Hermione sat a plate in front of him.

“Professor Snape said to meet him in the basement when you’re finished with breakfast.” Harry let out a loud sigh. “I know you hate it, Harry, but he says it’s the only way that we can all be safe.” 

“The fact that it’s necessary doesn’t make it any less enjoyable, Hermione.” Harry finished his breakfast and stood up from the table. “Well, best not keep him waiting. He’s hard enough to deal with when he’s in a good mood…not that I’ve ever seen him in one.” Hermione smiled and shook her head as Harry disappeared down the stairs toward the basement.

Snape was reading a book by lamplight when Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Sleep well, Mr. Potter?”

“Like a rock, actually. I passed out last night, didn’t I?”

“You did. Understandable given the ferocity of my mental probe, but still potentially fatal if you allow it to happen in front of someone who wishes to do you harm. You see, you cannot guard your thoughts if you are unconscious.” Snape stood up. “Be prepared, Mr. Potter. I will hold nothing back. That wall needs to be complete at the outset and impenetrable, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Very well…Legilimens!”

Snape was pleasantly surprised when the first thing he saw was an immense wall built of gray stone. He darted up and down, left and right, trying to get around it but found himself unable to do so. He quickly realized that he would have to go through. This wouldn’t be pleasant, but he had to test Potter’s true strength. He slammed into the wall as hard as he could – nothing. He tried again – still nothing. Could it be that Potter had improved so much in just one day? Suddenly, Severus had an idea. He noticed that the stones were held together by mortar. Perhaps these could represent a weak spot in Potter’s defenses, he thought to himself. He concentrated his attacks on the mortar and began to see cracks appear in it. He could see small fractions of memories through the cracks. It wasn’t much, but it could be enough for the Dark Lord to get the information he needed. 

Harry heard Snape’s voice inside his head. _You must do something about these cracks, Potter. You must eliminate the weak spots; the wall must be solid._ To Snape’s surprise, the cracks began to close. After several attempts to work his way over, around, and through the wall, Snape gave in. “That’s enough, Potter. I must admit you have improved more than I would have thought since our last lesson. I think you are ready to start working with Mr. Weasley after he recovers.”

“What about Hermione,” Harry asked, slightly winded.

“I will be working with Miss Granger while you work with Mr. Weasley.”

“You two have gotten awfully close, haven’t you, you and Hermione?”

Snape recoiled at Harry’s statement. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, just that the two of you have been spending a lot of time together and you seem to have gotten close.”

“My relationship with Miss Granger is none of your concern, Potter, but I assure you that there is nothing more to it than the fact that we are both working toward the same goal. Yes, that has required us to work closely with one another. I hope, however, that you are not insinuating that there is anything improper going on between Miss Granger and myself.”

“I wasn’t trying to say that at all. It’s just that you used to intimidate her so much, but she seems so comfortable around you now.”

“Well, you’ll have to ask her about that. I have no idea what goes on inside her head. However, I suspect I will have a better idea of that once you send her down here after you see yourself out.” With that, Harry disappeared up the stairs, leaving Snape alone with his thoughts.

 _Who does he think he is,_ Severus thought to himself. _To insinuate that I would have an inappropriate relationship with a girl half my age…a student, no less. But you don’t think of her as a student anymore, do you Snape? No, she is practically a grown woman, as smart and mature as most twice her age. Listen to you, justifying it to yourself. Is it possible that Potter is on to something – that he sees what you won’t let yourself see?_ He shook the thought from his mind as quickly as it had entered. He would not allow himself to taint his newfound friendship with his inappropriate desires. _Besides,_ he thought to himself, _she probably isn’t interested in you in the slightest._

*****

Harry found Hermione seated at Ron’s bedside reading a book. 

“Hermione, Snape wants to see you in the basement. Has Ron made any progress?”

“No, about the same.” Hermione stood up and walked toward the door before pausing abruptly. “I’m nervous. If Occlumency is as bad as you say it is, I’m not sure I want to do this.”

Harry sat down. “It is bad, but I know you can do it if I can. You’re probably loads better at it than I am already.”

Hermione looked back at him uneasily. “I doubt that.” She walked out of the room and to the staircase in the kitchen that led to the basement. She took the stairs slowly, trying her best to prepare herself for whatever Snape could throw her way. Her thoughts returned to the conversation the two of them had a few days ago. He mentioned the fact that her mind would be a fortress if she had proper training. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad after all, if he already had that opinion of her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw him seated near the far wall, directly underneath a glowing light bulb. Snape motioned for her to take a seat and she obeyed.

“As you know, you are here to learn Occlumency, a skill that will prove very helpful if, God forbid, you find yourself captured by the Dark Lord or his servants. Now, tell me, what do you know of Occlumency? I’m sure you’ve at least read about it.”

“Yes I have. I know that it is the art of keeping a Legilimens from reading your thoughts or seeing your memories. I know that it’s different for everyone. Each Occlumens has a different strategy for keeping a Legilimens out. Those strategies can range from mental blocks of sorts to full memories that are nothing more than believable lies.”

“Very good, Hermione.” 

“But how does one decide which method to use?”

“You must follow your instincts. Do what feels natural. Your thoughts must be singularly focused on keeping the intruder out. Your brain will know the best way to do that.”

“What do you do?” she asked. 

“I have learned to produce false memories. I knew that, given my status with the Dark Lord, I could not blatantly Occlude him. I had to make him think he was seeing my true memories and thoughts should he ever decide to probe my mind.”

“That sounds difficult,” Hermione replied nervously.

“Not as difficult as you think. You see, each time a memory is recalled, it changes a bit. You forget things, or you exaggerate things. I just help the process along. That said, you needn’t worry about that. You don’t have to deceive anyone; just keeping them out is all that’s necessary. Are you ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Probably not.”

He raised his wand and pointed it at her. “Legilimens!”

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated a great deal. To those of you who read each week and review, thank you. I know I say this every time but please know it isn’t out of habit, but rather sincere thankfulness. This being my first fic, I never expected it to take off like it did. So again, thanks to you all! Next chapter very soon!


	17. New Truths and Old Ties

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 16**

New Truths and Old Ties 

Hermione braced herself as she felt Severus push into her mind. He wasn’t gentle, nor had she expected him to be. Hermione knew he wanted her to feel what it would be like if someone with less than honorable intentions tried to penetrate her mind. His presence in her thoughts was nothing short of unnerving. She tried to focus all of her attention on the advice he had given her by simply allowing her head to do what it deemed as natural. She couldn’t tell one bit of a difference. Suddenly, she felt as if she had been picked up and shaken rather violently. Her head was spinning as she realized he was attempting to select a memory to view. She fought desperately, trying to figure out a way to keep him out, but it was no use. Behind her closed eyes, a memory came bursting into her subconscious that she had hoped to keep dormant.

She saw herself standing in her family’s living room. Her mother and father were busy and their backs were turned to her. They didn’t see when she raised her wand to them. They didn’t see the single tear that slid down her cheek as she muttered the spell that would erase her from their lives forever. They didn’t notice her as she quietly slipped out of the house with a heart full of regret and tenderness. She did it to protect them, but it still hurt. Nearly seven months after she modified their memories, the pain was still fresh. She wanted none of it. She spun around trying to find her professor. She spotted him leaning up against the door frame, his arms crossed. He was looking at her like he was trying to figure her out. He could hear her muffled voice aimed toward him. 

_“Get out, get out, get out!”_

_“You’ll have to do more than yell at me, Hermione. Focus on forcing me out with your mind, not your words.”_

Before he finished speaking, hundreds and hundreds of memories flooded her mind’s eye. She started to feel dizzy and Severus could sense it. He pulled from her mind, leaving her gasping and trembling in her seat. He had almost pushed her too far and he knew it. He watched as she tried to steady her breathing. Her eyes were closed and her hold on the seat of her chair was so intense her hands were nearly white with tension. Her breathing was becoming steadier by the second and, after about a minute, she looked up at him with a look of disappointment written all over her face. 

Snape clasped his hands together and brought them to his lap as he studied her carefully. He needed to figure out a different way to instruct her. He knew she was capable; he only needed to figure out the way to make her success come easier. “Let’s try a different approach. Do you know how your mind is organized?”

“I’ve never really thought about it. But guess I can’t really see it, so I would say not.”

“No,” he said, his lips curling slightly, “I suppose you can’t. Well allow me to explain to you what I see when I enter your thoughts. Your subconscious has created a system for storing the contents of your head. Everyone has a different way to manage the workings of their mind. Given your nature to learn and your fondness of the written word, your memories, your thoughts, everything is stored in books.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Quite. The method with which you have compartmentalized your thoughts and memories is genius, but it is also terribly dangerous. As it stands, I can just waltz right into your head and take what I want. I can open up each book, read it, and feel the emotions associated with it. I, as well as anyone else, could use those memories and thoughts against you.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Start slowly. Figure out a way to keep me from getting into those books. For the next session, I want you to focus on those bookshelves and the memories they contain. Your mind created them so it should have no trouble showing you. You mustn’t let me get to them, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Ready yourself.” She nodded her ready. “Legilimens!”

As soon as Snape entered Hermione’s mind, he could see her mental bookshelves as if they were standing in from of him. _“Very good.”_ He reached out and selected one of the tomes at random. It came off the shelf easily enough, which almost gave him the idea that she wasn’t doing what he asked of her at all. Then he tried to open the book. At first it was pliable, easy to manipulate. He could feel the emotion coming from it before he had even opened it. Suddenly, the tome grew heavy in his hands. Its weight continued to grow until the book fell from his hands completely. _“Interesting idea,”_ he said, stooping to place his hands on it again. _“You still have a bit of a problem, however. I don’t have to pick it up to view it.”_

Hermione tried in vain to keep him from opening the book and accessing the memory, but it was no use. His resolve was much more forceful than hers. 

The memory he selected took place during her sixth year, one that he remembered himself, or at least parts of it anyway. Severus could sense Hermione’s grief and anxiety as he watched her sit at the foot of Weasley’s bed in the infirmary. The boy had just been poisoned with laced mead that had been intended for the Headmaster. Her longing for him was easily noticeable and, for some reason, and Severus couldn’t explain why, he felt a pang of jealousy rouse deep inside himself. The more he watched her with him, the more Severus realized Ronald Weasley was a bumbling buffoon. How Weasley could not sense her affections was beyond him. She came to the idiot boy offering comfort and care even after he practically slapped her in the face with his well-publicized escapades with the Brown girl.

Severus continued to watch as she spoke to him. She all but pleaded for him to wake up, even if it meant he would go running back to someone who wasn’t her. He watched as she apologized over and over for the way she had behaved toward him, blaming her own adolescent emotions as the culprit. Then she did something Severus had not expected. She leaned down to his pale face and gently pressed her lips to his before quietly seeing herself out of the hospital wing. He certainly felt the jealousy rear its ugly head then. 

Severus had seen enough and by the way the memory was starting to collapse around him, so had Hermione. He pulled from her mind, leaving her quivering in her chair. 

“That’s enough for today.” He said nothing else as he got up from his seat and headed for the stairs. Perhaps there was something more to his relationship with her than he wanted to believe. He knew it was stupid and that he shouldn’t avoid her like this, but for some unknown and particularly bothersome reason he just couldn’t face her—not after what that memory of hers made him feel.

“I’m sorry,” she managed before he disappeared up the steps. 

Severus turned, his hands still grasping the wooden handrails. If he grabbed them any tighter they might have splintered under his hold. “For?”

“The fact that I can’t do this. I have wasted your time. Maybe I should just ask Harry to help me.”

“Nonsense. I didn’t expect you to get it on the first try. You will learn with more practice. Occlumency is a difficult skill; a rather advanced form of magic, which one must learn to harness in order to properly use to their advantage.” 

She smiled at him. “I’d like to try again this afternoon if that’s alright with you. I just need time to prepare without someone being in my head. Just give me a few hours to figure out what to do. I can do better.”

Severus turned to mask his own smile. Of course she would do better, that was her nature. “That’s fine. We’ll try again after dinner.”

Hermione watched as he climbed the stairs, leaving her alone. She hated to disappoint people probably more so than she hated to fail. She couldn’t help but feel that she had managed to do both in less than an hour. Something about the way he left puzzled her. It was almost like something was bothering him and most likely it was because of something she had done. She closed her eyes, trying to push that notion from her mind, trying to focus more on keeping her thoughts contained rather than allowing them to run amuck. Just when she managed to clear her mind, she heard the sound of feet shuffling on the wooden stairs. She opened her eyes to spot Harry and he looked confused.

“Hey, what is it?” 

“It’s Snape,” Harry said, taking the seat across from her. “I was in the sitting room and he just walked out the front door. Told me not to leave the house. I was just wondering if you knew where he was going. He left in a bit of a hurry. I thought something might have been wrong.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar. What he was saying was news to her. “What do you mean, he left? He never mentioned anything to me about going anywhere.”

*****

Severus needed to get away. Not for long, but long enough to get himself together. Hermione Granger was going to be the death of him, or at least the cause of his increasingly deteriorating sanity. The girl was truly an enigma and one that he was sure he would never figure out. He would have left the house completely unnoticed had it not been for Harry coming through the sitting room just as he was reaching for the door handle. Severus was ambiguous on purpose, only telling the boy to stay put and that he wouldn’t be gone long. If he was telling himself the truth, however, he really had no idea where he was going once he left the confines of the safe house. 

The safe house they were staying in was secluded enough, save for the country road that meandered past. He knew he wouldn’t be seen, so he didn’t even bother Disillusioning himself. He took off quickly down the drive then down the gravel lane. It was quiet, and Severus relished the calmness brought along with it. He altered his pace to a slow, ambling walk, occasionally kicking a few of the larger pieces of rock out of his path as he went. This was such a cowardly thing to do and he knew it. 

“Since when do you run from your plights, you old bastard,” he said aloud. He kicked another stone sending it soaring into a nearby ditch. “Get a hold of yourself, you crazy fool. You don’t have time for this.”

Somewhere off in the distance behind him he heard a door slam shut. He knew someone—and it was most likely her—was coming to look for him and he was not ready to be found. He wasted no time Disapparating from the area. Again, it was a cowardly thing to do, but he reasoned that he wasn’t really himself at the present moment. 

Severus reappeared out of thin air hundreds of miles away in the West Country of England. He had traveled to the sleepy little township of Godric’s Hollow. He had no idea where he was going when he Disapparated, but he ended up there nonetheless. He supposed the thought popped into his head for a reason, so he decided he would humor it. He had only been to this place once before and he swore it would be his last. Again, another promise he made himself that he had just shattered into oblivion. Thankfully, the magical residents of the town outnumbered those who were Muggle so his sudden appearance wouldn’t be thought about much if he was seen. Besides in this wretchedly cold weather, people would be tucked away inside their warm homes. He wouldn’t be seen. 

The community of Godric’s Hollow was small and mostly residential, save for a post office, a pub, a church, and a few retail shops. Everything centered on the town square, the hub of any activity the small town would see. He had Apparated on the edge of the village to avoid any such activity and took his time as he headed toward the town’s centre. As he walked down the street he noticed the first traces of a fine snow that had began to fall. It was a sublime sight to see the cobblestoned streets decked out in the holiday’s finest trimmings. It almost gave him hope that things would eventually improve, that there was still good in the world. That was until he saw something from his past that caused everything to come to a screeching halt. There, some few hundred feet in front of him, was the former home of the Potters. It looked just the same as it did when he saw it in October of 1981, the night the Potters’ lives had been ripped from them by the Dark Lord.

He moved closer to the partially destroyed home, feeling a lump start to settle in his throat. He was sure he looked odd to any Muggle passersby, as he was simply staring at an abandoned, overgrown plot of land that was meant to be off limits. He didn’t care. He approached the stone wall that separated the broken house from the curb, never taking his eyes off the structure. The number of nights this house and the hell that happened within its walls haunted his dreams was more than he had ever cared to think about. The fact the house remained unchanged was a reminder that he would never be able to alter the events that transpired. He could never undo any of it, so there was no need to dwell on the fact that it would remain forever unchanged. 

A person could spend days, months or even years overanalyzing a situation or a particular event that transpired during their lifetime. It would be so easy for someone to waste away from trying desperately to put things right or take things apart, trying to change what has happened or trying to determine what might have happened if the cards had fallen just so. Severus Snape was that sort of person. But given the things he had lived through and people he had to face, he also learned a thing or two. Severus also knew there was a time to leave all the pieces of one’s past in the past where it belonged and simply move on as life had intended. 

His thoughts traveled to the three people he had left in his attempt to clear his head—more specifically the one responsible for his current state. To think he could have had a friendship with a girl like her was baffling. But then again, life never really told a person what it had in store for them. To him, Hermione Granger represented a chance to move forward. Anything more with her, he realized, would not happen, but the fact that she had even given him the time of day gave him promising hope that he would find someone who was willing to be saddled with him—should he make it out of this sodding mess alive. Unexpectedly, the realization of what he had to do crashed down on him. He finally knew why he had brought himself to Godric’s Hollow. He stole one more look at the remnants that was a symbol of his sordid past before heading toward the Godric’s Hollow cemetery. 

By the time he reached the small church and its cemetery, the snow was falling at a steadier pace, almost completely masking him from prying eyes. He pushed the old, iron gate open and made his way to the grave site of Lily and James Potter. The cemetery was small, so it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He approached it like someone would some wild, wounded animal; as if it would reach out and strike him in some way. When he was close enough, he ran his fingers across her name engraved in the thick, white granite tombstone brushing the newly fallen snow from it. He crouched, putting her name directly in his field of vision. He sat there a long while with both his hands gripping the tombstone’s top, staring at it with intensity. He released a ragged breath and watched as it condensed in the air around him. Was he really going to do this after all this time?

“I know I said I would not come back here to you, but for some reason I felt it necessary. So much has changed—and not for the better, I’m afraid. I am doing my best to do what is right by you, Lily. Every day I try to end what he started. We are so close to the end of it all.”

Severus stood abruptly and moved away from her grave. He would not allow himself to falter. He clapped a hand over his mouth, as he turned his back to the last reminder of her. “I cannot live like this anymore,” he said after a long pause, never bothering to turn back around. “I constantly wonder what it would have been like had things turned out differently. I know it’s hopeless and pathetic but I do it just the same. But I have learned something. I have finally realized that I can’t change my past, no matter how much I wish for it to be altered. My past is a part of me. It is something I can never escape. But the one thing I can change, the one thing I can control, is my future.”

This time he turned back to face her headstone. He walked up to it for the absolute last time and carefully laid his hand over her name. In some ways he would have compared this sort of situation to the way someone would behave they were saying their final goodbyes to a frail loved one. In a sense that was exactly what he was doing. “I have been burdened with the troubles of the past for far too long. I swear to you I will look out for your son like I promised all those years ago, but I am moving forward. I will always care for you, and you will always be a part of me, but you must allow me the freedom to get on with my life. Is that too bold of a request? Is it too much to want a life where your memory doesn’t consume my every thought?” 

He waited for a response that he knew would never come. As he stood there as still as stone, the snow whipping around him, he said the words he never thought he would hear—especially coming from himself. “I am moving on, Lily. I am moving on with my life.” He didn’t know what ‘moving on’ would entail but it seemed right for the first time in a very long time. His hand dropped from the cold stone and he walked toward the exit, leaving only his footprints behind in the freshly fallen snow.

*****

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when Severus Apparated into the kitchen. He had been gone for several hours and she had worried every single second of them. Trying to mask her relief, she turned back around to the dinner dishes in the sink. “If you ever decide to go off like that again, will you please take the Galleons with you, should you find yourself in need of help?” 

“I was perfectly fine, I can assure you.”

“Why the need to just rush off without telling anyone where it is was you were going?”

“There was something I had to do.”

“Something you had to do? How convenient! You just run off and do whatever it is you have to do and leave us here to worry ourselves sick about you. You have some nerve, you know.”

“Potter worried himself sick over my absence?” he queried, cracking a sly smirk. “I think pits of Hell might have frozen over.”

She turned unexpectedly and threw the dishcloth she was holding toward his head. He dodged it easily enough. “Oh, you know what I mean! Just please don’t do that again, alright? You don’t have to tell us where you’re going if you don’t want, but let us know you’re leaving at least.”

He bent down, plucking her miserable weapon off the kitchen floor and started toward her. “How did I not meet those demands? I told your friend, it isn’t my fault if he failed to mention it.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me,” she snapped, snatching the towel from his hand once he was within her reach.

He kept his face as expressionless as he could manage, given her paltry attempt at anger. It was all a ruse and he knew it. He found it so very hard not to smile around her. “You have my word. If I have to leave again, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“That’s all I ask,” she said, moving past him. Hermione had made it to the door leading into the sitting room when she stopped to face him. She had the promise of a grin threatening to take hold of her features. “By the way, that’s your dinner on the table. And in case you’ve forgotten, you owe me another Occlumency lesson once you’re through.”

He nodded and she left him to his food; her own mind finding something else to torment her with now that he had returned in one piece. 

Hermione entered the sitting room and plopped down on the sofa. She needed to clear her head for what was about to happen. No matter how interested or eager she tried to sound, Hermione still hated the thoughts of Occlumency training. She had always excelled at her studies. She had found most things easy to learn and those that challenged her could be mastered through her rigorous study schedule. Occlumency was different. You couldn’t learn it from a book – you had to practice, and practice was excruciating. There was no other feeling quite as unnerving as having someone poke around in your head, viewing your memories and exposing your secrets. Hermione was frustrated that Occlumency was coming so slowly to her and she was afraid that Snape would begin to doubt her abilities if she did not improve quickly.

“Did you Disapparate or was that Snape?” She heard a voice call from down the hall. Hermione looked in the direction of the voice to see Harry coming into the room. His wand was drawn and he had a look of concern on his face.

“Honestly, Harry, put your wand away. And yes, it was Professor Snape. He just got back.”

He sheathed his wand and joined her on the sofa. “You can never be too careful. Constant Vigilance, you know.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Anyway, where’s he been all this time?”

“I haven’t the slightest. He didn’t tell me anything other than he had something he had to do.” 

Harry inched closer to her, bringing his mouth directly next to her ear. “He’s acting a bit off, don’t you think? I don’t know what it is, but there is something not quite right.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed. “We have already been through this, Harry, and he has done more than what was necessary to prove himself.”

“I don’t mean that. I’m talking about the way he’s been acting lately. He isn’t as standoffish as he usually is…especially toward you.”

Hermione could feel her face flush with heat. Surely he wasn’t suggesting that. She tried her best to play it off as nothing. “Are you daft, Harry Potter? Have you gone completely mad?”

Harry held up his hands. “Hey, I only call them as I see them. You honestly don’t see a difference in him?” 

“Whether I do or do not is beside the point. What's more, I don’t see what it matters. Wouldn’t you prefer him to be somewhat pleasant as opposed to his usual sour self?”

“Of course. It’s just odd. That’s all I’m saying.” 

Harry regarded his silent friend. Hermione seemed to have almost the same reaction Snape had had when he mentioned the same thought to him. Realizing he was venturing into dangerous territory, he changed the subject. 

“Are you still going to have your lesson?”

Hermione released a sigh. “As far as I know. He hasn’t told me anything different.”

“That bad, huh?” 

“Worse, actually. I couldn’t keep him out at all. It’s much harder than I thought.”

“You’ll get it. I can’t count the number of times he just barged his way in and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

“But you can at least keep him at bay. I can’t even do that. All I managed was to knock a memory from him and briefly at that.”

Harry just shook his head. Of course she would beat herself up over this. “Hermione, it has taken me since fifth year to get to the point where I am now. That’s almost two years! The fact that you were able to throw him off, no matter how short it was, is a feat in itself—and on your first go, no less.”

“It’s just that this is—”

“Hard for you? That’s rubbish. I know you, and I know you can do this. But if you go into the sessions thinking you can’t keep him out you won’t. It’s all about what’s in here,” he said, poking her in the side of the head. “You have to believe that you can keep him out.” 

“It’s not that simple.”

“Try it and see if you don’t believe me.”

Hermione’s lips quirked. “I guess I’ll see what I can do.”

“You had better,” Harry teased as he stood up. He paused briefly before heading back down the hall to the bedrooms. “We are stuck here until you and Ron to get the hang of it.”

“I know.”

“Then do what I know you can do, Hermione. Keep him out so we can get this over with.” Harry said nothing further and disappeared down the hall. 

“I thought I told you that working with Potter isn’t necessary?”

Hermione’s head snapped around to spot Severus leaning in the door to the kitchen much like he did in her memory. “I wasn’t working with him, we were only talking.”

Severus only raised an eyebrow at her response. “Are you ready?”

Hermione stood and joined him, careful to keep some distance between them. She couldn’t have Harry Potter thinking there was something else going on. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Why don’t we find out then." Severus moved aside to let her pass. “After you.” 

Once the two of them made it downstairs she took her usual seat and he promptly sat down across from her. “Remember what I told you. You have to focus, Hermione. I know you can do this, but I’m not going to take it easy on you. You can rest assured you would get no such courtesy from the Dark Lord. Now, prepare yourself,” he raised his wand to meet her gaze. “Legilimens!”

Snape found himself in a room that would be a most impressive library if found in someone’s home. She had been practicing. He scanned the shelves of books, turning his attention to those memories he knew to be the most recent. His trip to Godric’s Hollow had been difficult but necessary. It had taken all the courage he could muster to tell ‘Lily’ he was moving on, now he had to figure out if there was anything to move on to. He moved to the end of the shelf and opened the last book. He flipped through its pages until he found what he was looking for – he saw himself and Hermione in the sitting room. Tears were streaming down her face as he held her in his arms. Severus felt her closing in on the memory, making the book like a lead weight in his hands. He allowed it to fall to the floor with a thud, but he was still able to see what its pages contained. He crouched down to get closer. He had to know what Hermione was thinking during the embrace. As skilled as he was at Legilimency, it would take some effort to read her thoughts within this particular memory, and he could feel her resolve to keep him from doing so growing stronger by the second. 

Finally, he got close enough to feel the emotions she was feeling and to see the thoughts running through her mind. At first, he merely felt the sadness and fear that the nightmare she had had evoked. Later, he could feel her feeling safer, a feeling which persisted for several moments. All of a sudden, he felt something more. He couldn’t quite explain what it was, since Hermione’s thoughts were now centered on expelling him from the memory. In a last ditch attempt at answers, he strengthened his own resolve. He attempted to read Hermione’s thoughts inside of her memory – a difficult task for even the most experienced Legilimens. Severus strained his mind with intense concentration, and after some time and effort, was able to see into Hermione’s thoughts. He was not expecting what he saw. He watched her eyes travel to his lips and linger there. He saw that she had envisioned herself kissing him in that exact moment. The sight of him locked in a prolonged kiss with the young woman sent his own mind spinning. This gave Hermione the opportunity she needed. 

Severus felt himself being pulled backwards. Suddenly, he was outside of the memory and saw the book on the ground beside him. As he reached for it, it snapped closed. He grabbed hold of it and tried to open it once more, but found himself unable to do so. The pages were no longer malleable, but were one solid block, as if they had all been glued together. He left the book on the floor and grabbed another at random from the shelf, only to find himself unable to open this one as well. He tried another book, then another, but was not able to open any of them. Severus threw up his hands in defeat and retreated from her mind.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she found her former professor looking at her with a rather odd expression on his face. “Was that alright?”

“Yes,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. She had no idea he saw her thoughts concerning the two of them. For that Severus was thankful because he was sure it wouldn’t have ended well if she had. 

Hermione leaned forward, reaching out to grab his hands that were shaking slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he lied. In reality, however, he was anything but fine. He was conflicted to say the least, as he had no idea what to do about what he saw. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Hermione released his hands and headed for the stairs, but Severus remained in his seat. “Aren’t you coming up?”

“You go on, I’ll be up in a moment.” 

Hermione left him alone in the cluttered cellar, though she had no idea what brought about his sudden need to want to be by himself. If she would have known the truth, she would have most likely died from embarrassment to know that her secret was the cause of his undoing. She would have died on the spot from surprise if she knew that he was sitting below her feet, in that very moment, thinking about what he saw, trying every way in the world to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t a figment of his imagination, but rather her true intentions. But she didn’t know, so she thought nothing else about his actions, apart from the fact that his need to be alone was simply part of his nature.

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always, your reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Thanks to those of you who read and review for each chapter. It has been a pleasure to share this madness with each of you!


	18. The Lull

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 17**

The Lull

The room was silent except for the slight crackling of the half-dead fire lying pitifully in the grate. A large table had been erected in the center of the cold room and was lined with matching seats for those who were present. The seat at the head of the table was empty, obviously meant for Lord Voldemort. There were three empty seats surrounding the table as well. Two were for the Death Eaters who had fallen, a memorial of sorts, and one for the tracker who had still not returned with news. Eight pairs of nervous eyes cautiously darted from face to face as they waited for the Dark Lord's presence. Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind swept through the room, kicking up dust and extinguishing the last remains of the fire. The room was plunged into darkness but no one dared to rectify it. After a few short seconds, the hearth behind the table roared to life, revealing the Dark Lord perched at his seat at the head of the group.

He looked around the table at those present. Bellatrix was sitting to his immediate left and her husband's empty chair was directly next to her. If Rodolphus's unexpected death had affected her, she didn't show it. Lucius and Draco sat just beyond the empty seat, neither of them breaking the gaze they held with the granules in the old, wooden table. Amycus Carrow was seated at the end with an empty chair beside him that should have contained Alecto. To Voldemort's right was another empty chair. This one was meant for Dolohov. The Death Eater had still not returned with any news regarding the whereabouts of Potter or Snape. Sitting in the remaining spots beyond Antonin's empty chair were Thorfinn Rowle, Marek Selwyn, Nikola Yaxley, and Peter Pettigrew. Those still alive belonging to the inner circle were all in attendance.

"There is a great deal to discuss. Shall we begin with you, Lucius?"

The mention of his name caused Lucius to jump slightly. The blond man turned his gaze to the Dark Lord as he cleared his throat. "Of course, my Lord. I have learned of a link that may prove beneficial to you…" Lucius trailed off, unsure if he had said the right thing.

"Go on."

"The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, the former Headmaster—"

"I know who he is, Lucius. Get on with it."

"Yes, my Lord. Black has a portrait at the home of his descendants—Grimmauld Place, the ancestral Black family residence. As you know, Grimmauld Place was, at one point, the headquarters for the Order."

"The Order is in shambles, Lucius. I hardly see how this information is of any use to me."

"His portrait no longer hangs in the house, my Lord. It has been taken by the Mudblood. She has placed the portrait in a bag she keeps."

That seemed to catch the Dark Lord's attention. "How do you know this?"

"Black informed me himself."

Voldemort eyed Lucius with suspicion. "He just willingly offered such information to you?"

"Yes, as a former Headmaster he offers assistance to whosoever holds the post. I have asked him to go to his portrait that was stolen to gather any information he can concerning their whereabouts."

"And?"

Lucius shifted nervously in his chair. This was the part of the conversation he dreaded. "He does not know, my Lord. His portrait is never taken out of the bag and the Mudblood was clever enough to spell the portrait with the Obscuro Jinx. He is unable to see anything when he is in that portrait."

"So you are telling me this beneficial link is essentially worthless?"

"Not at all, my Lord. I have Filius Flitwick, the Charms Master, working to remove the Jinx. He—"

"He was one of Dumbledore's stooges! You are a fool if you think he would willingly help you." Lucius began to form a response, but Voldemort held up a white hand, waving him off like a small child. "I have heard enough."

Lucius stopped speaking immediately as he shrank back into his chair, hoping to disappear entirely.

The Dark Lord stood from his seat and made his way to the younger blond man sitting beside Lucius. He placed his hands on his shoulders. Draco started to recoil awkwardly until the Dark Lord intensified his grasp. "Tell me, Draco, do you have something more to offer than your worthless father?"

"I…Yes, my Lord," he said, his pale lips quivering ever so slightly.

"While I was at the home of the Blood Traitors, Potter and Weasley showed up. I was able to curse Weasley, but Potter disarmed me."

Voldemort scoffed with disgust. "The apple falls not far from the tree, does it?"

Realizing he had just dug himself into a rather deep hole, Draco started to scramble to save his own neck. "I overheard them talking, my Lord. I believe they have split up. Snape is not working with them. I don't think Granger is either."

"Why were they there?"

"They got some sort of card. I don't know why they wanted it but they seemed more concerned about the envelope than what was inside."

Suddenly the Dark Lord had brought his wand to the side of Draco's head. Draco sucked in a deep breath of air when he felt the frigid tip of the wand dig into his temple.

"Be still. I want to see for myself."

Draco went rigid in his seat as the Dark Lord blew through his thoughts. The young man fought frantically to maintain his composure as his master assaulted his mind. He couldn't help his slight quaking. After a long moment, the Dark Lord retreated from the boy's mind and went to his seat.

"This is acceptable, Draco. Perhaps there is a redeeming soul in the Malfoy family after all."

"Thank you, my Lord," he replied, breathlessly. "Thank you."

"Yaxley, tell me, how are things progressing at the Ministry?"

"My Lord, things are going as planned," the older man rasped out. "We have managed to capture several supporters of Potter. Interrogations are proceeding according to plan, it will only be a matter of—"

Before the Death Eater could finish, the door leading into the room burst open with a loud bang. Every head turned to see a disheveled Antonin Dolohov stride into the room and drop to his knees before his master. "My Lord, I ask your forgiveness for my lateness. I wanted to know for sure before I came to you with information."

Voldemort's face twisted with wicked anticipation as he looked down at his Death Eater. "Rise, Antonin," he said as he motioned in the direction of the empty chair. "Sit and tell me what you know."

Antonin made his way to his feet and took his place at Voldemort's right hand. "Thank you, my Lord. I believe I have found where Snape is hiding. Just yesterday morning I was searching through the Muggle town of Brighton, some fifty miles from London. At first, I thought I had made a mistake because there was nothing but empty farm fields but then I saw him in the flesh. Severus appeared out of nowhere, which leads me to believe he has erected enchantments to conceal his location."

"This is excellent news, Antonin. It appears our dear Severus will finally receive his judgment. Did he see you?"

"No, he did not."

"All the better. It appears we will have the upper hand."

Antonin looked nervously to Lucius and Draco. "That is not all. I also have reason to believe he is not alone. Just as you suggested, I think he is with Potter, the Blood Traitor, and the Mudblood."

"Interesting," Voldemort said, turning his attention to the Malfoy men. "Young Draco here seems to think they are not together. He saw just the boys at the old Weasley shack."

"Before I came here I went to Malfoy Manor to retrieve the things I had left behind." Antonin glanced to Lucius again, trying to determine if he knew where the conversation was going. He gave no indication whatsoever.

"Out with it, Antonin! Time grows short as does my patience."

"Of course, my Lord. As I was saying, Severus has been to the Manor since you have moved." Dolohov paused as the room was filled with a hushed murmur. He looked to Lucius again to see the pale man had lost almost all of his color. "He and the Mudblood threatened Narcissa for information regarding your whereabouts. She did not willingly give him the information, but he knows we are here."

Before Antonin had managed to finish his sentence, Lucius was blasted out of his chair by a spell from Voldemort's wand. The seated Death Eaters stood from their chairs out of instinct and backed towards the corners of the room.

The Dark Lord seemed to materialize out of thin air directly over the surprised wizard. "Lucius! Why did you not tell me?"

Lucius threw his hands up in an attempt of submission. "I…I knew nothing of it, my Lord! I swear to you!"

"Such lies, Lucius. Such fucking lies!" The Dark Lord raised his wand to the blond man once more.

"My Lord, please! I have not spoken to my wife since the day you left our home."

Lucius Malfoy was a Slytherin to the core. He realized he was in a most precarious situation, and that bravery would not provide him any aid. However, he was also quite cunning. He immediately said the thing that would save his own hide. "I will bring you Narcissa so that she may explain her treachery."

Antonin approached his master carefully. "My Lord, if I may?"

"Speak your piece, Antonin," Voldemort hissed severely, never breaking his gaze with Lucius.

"I don't believe Narcissa meant to hide anything from you. She sent me word of what happened. As Lucius said, she has not spoken to him for several days. She did not want him to trouble him."

Voldemort turned his full attention to Dolohov. He stared deeply into the man's eyes as if he were trying to delve into his very soul. Several of the other occupants in the room looked away from the two of them as they were made uneasy by the sheer intensity of their master's gaze. After several minutes, Antonin released a ragged breath as he doubled over, clutching his knees with his hands.

The Dark Lord looked down at Lucius with a hint of disappointment crossing his serpent-like features. "For now, Lucius, it appears your own ignorance has saved you."

Lucius slowly made it to his feet, trying to salvage what dignity he had left. "You are most gracious, my Lord. I will go speak to Narcissa concerning this unexpected news."

"You will do no such thing. I have other plans for you— all of you. With the news Antonin has provided, we must not waste time. Antonin," the Dark Lord said, turning to face him, "you will do as we discussed and you will go alone."

"My Lord," Bellatrix interrupted, "Snape is not someone to take lightly. Should Dolohov not have someone with him?"

"No, he should not. Severus would suspect the ploy and he would run."

"But he has grown complacent, my Lord. As Dolohov said, Snape does not think he is at risk. He does not bother to conceal himself in plain sight."

"All the more reason for him to go alone, Bella. Antonin will do this himself and you will wait for his call should he need you. There will be no more discussion of it."

Bellatrix glared at Antonin with the sort of repugnance she reserved only for Mudbloods. She did not like the thoughts of someone stealing any of her glory, nor the fact that she would not get to catch Snape herself. Smirking, Dolohov proceeded to send a rather crude hand gesture in her direction, voicing his own opinion on the matter. The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Lord Voldemort.

"Enough! There is no time for the quarrelling of children! The only thing that matters is that Potter and Snape are caught. If any of you do anything to jeopardize that, there will be hell to pay. Now get out of my sight!"

The Death Eaters retreated from the room with their tails tucked firmly between their legs. Once the group was safely out of earshot, Lucius exploded.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Dolohov?" he demanded, shoving him into the wall. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

"Keep your hands off me! And for your information, I saved your arse, you dolt. Your ignorant wife—"

Suddenly, Bellatrix had her dagger out and held to Antonin's neck. It strongly resembled Alecto's. "If you speak an ill word toward my sister again, I will split you from navel to nose."

Lucius pushed her hand down forcefully. "Let him speak!"

"As I was saying, your… _lovely_ wife told Severus outright. She was naive enough to believe he would Obliviate her afterwards."

"Cissy would never!"

"I would tell you to go ask her yourself, Bella, but she wouldn't remember it. I modified her memory and planted a new one."

"How…" Lucius began, completely befuddled, "how did you keep such a thing from him?"

Antonin pulled a phial from his pocket, holding it up for the group to view. Inside was a single wispy fiber of his mind. "Snape isn't the only one with tricks up his sleeves."

Rowle clapped him hard on the shoulder. "You sly bastard, only you would be dumb enough to try a stunt like that." His comment earned a wickedly satisfied grin.

Dolohov returned the phial to its hiding spot before his face took its usual smugness. "If we're done here, I have a rat to catch." He took off toward the door just as Bellatrix's sharp voice sliced through the air.

"If you fail, Dolohov, you won't have to worry about the Dark Lord because I'll get to you first."

"I'll get him," he said as he disappeared through the door.

* * *

Hermione rolled over in her bed to check the time on her bedside clock. She had not slept well, having woken up several times with just the slightest noise or bump. Turns out, running for one's life wasn't really conducive to a good night's sleep. The clock by her bed revealed the time as being a quarter past three in the morning. Hermione rubbed her eyes, wishing for sleep that never came. She was wide awake. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she fished around for her house shoes, finally toeing them on when she located them. She grabbed her housecoat from its hook and headed out of her bedroom and down the darkened hall. She tried to be as quiet as possible as she crept past the boys' bedrooms on her way to the kitchen. She made her way to the sitting room and nearly died of fright as a voice sounded in the darkness.

"A little late to be out of bed, isn't it?"

Hermione caught her breath as she flipped on the lamp to reveal Snape seated on the sofa. "I could say the same for you. Why are you in here alone… in the dark?"

"The same as you, I expect. Couldn't sleep."

"Do you ever sleep?"

"Of course I sleep. Why do you ask?"

"It's just that you're always awake when I go to bed and when I get up."

"Well, I suppose that my sleep schedule is what some would call irregular, especially given the current state of things. I'm afraid I've grown accustomed to lying awake and worrying when I should be sleeping."

The stress and anxiety of their ordeals had had a noticeable effect on Severus's face. Hermione noticed that he looked tired. He also looked years older than he did when they had escaped Malfoy Manor just little over a week ago. She moved to the sofa beside him. "Well, why don't you get some sleep now? There are still a few hours before daylight."

"I'm afraid my mind isn't keen on the idea. It would much rather go off in directions it shouldn't."

"What about that sleeping potion you gave me? It works awfully well."

Severus made a sort of amused sound. "A little too well, actually. Such a heavy dose of a Sleeping Potion of that nature, as you know, has the capacity to send one into a deep sleep. It's much too dangerous to use given the situation we are in."

"Then why on earth do you have such a potion if you didn't intend to use it?"

Severus closed his eyes tightly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have used it, but, as I said, the situation we are in is much too dire to incapacitate myself for the sake of a few hours of peaceful sleep."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to such a statement. She knew all too well of the possibility of night terrors and dreams, as they plagued her almost every night. If she wasn't woken up by a strange noise, her dreams would certainly take on the role. She couldn't even begin to image the things he had to see and endure each time he closed his eyes.

"You know, sometimes it helps to talk about it. Back when we first started this wild chase I would have terrible dreams about my parents. Somehow, You-Know-Who would always find them. I knew it was foolishness because, as you saw in that memory, I sent them away. But it was the same each time I would lay my head down. At one point, when it was at its worst, I was only sleeping maybe an hour or two each night. Finally, I just had to say something aloud, whether I just talk about it to myself or to Harry or Ron. I had to get it out of my head and away from me. Little by little, I was able to remove it from my mind completely. "

"I wouldn't want to burden you with the things lurking in the corners of my mind."

"How would it be a burden?"

"There are some things about this world that you should not have the displeasure of seeing or hearing, Hermione. The thoughts that keep me awake happen to fall into that particular category."

"You don't have to tell me anything, but I can't imagine why you would want to carry such a weight by yourself. It might do you some good, you know."

Severus turned his attention to the floor. He knew what she was saying, what she was asking him to do, but he could not speak of such things even though he so badly wanted to relieve himself of his demons. He was sure if she knew what haunted him, she would want nothing more to do with him. He did not want to taint their relationship. "I know, but they are just that. My troubles are my troubles and others shouldn't have to deal or worry with them, least of all you."

Hermione laid her hand on his arm, gently gathering the black fabric of his sleeve between her fingers. She felt him stiffen at the sudden contact but he didn't brush her off like she feared. She was quite surprised when he actually relaxed under her hold. "Please. You have helped me more times than I could ever count. Let me return the favor. It is the least I could do for you."

Severus considered what she was saying, as she was making considerable sense. But she was asking him to do something he had not done in a very long time. Severus Snape didn't discuss any part of his life with anyone, it was much too dangerous. However, talking to her didn't seem to sound so bad. If she wanted him to break down the barrier he had constructed to keep people from him, he was willing to do it, but he would never be able to go back from that. That was the part that made him wary, that was the part he was afraid of.

"I don't even know where to begin," Severus said, releasing an uneasy sigh.

"Well, what has kept you awake tonight? That seems like a proper place to start."

"It has been too quiet, too calm. It's unnerving and out of place."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not in this case, I have a feeling. It is almost like the peace that comes before a storm."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I think you worry way too much. I'm sure things will liven up once Ron wakes up and we are able to finish this. We still have to figure out where this Riddle House is."

"That's the other thing. I have no clue what will happen once we get there. Until recently, I've always known the Dark Lord's plans. Now that I am out of the loop, I am left to sit and imagine countless scenarios that might play out, each more horrifying than the last."

"You can't worry about what you don't know. You take things in stride, you adapt, you change to suit the situations you are given. You of all people should do that. It's like my mum always said, no one gets to take a guided tour of their life before they have a chance to live it. A person has to follow the road regardless, never knowing if it will turn this way or that. In life, whatever is going to happen will happen—whether we worry over such things or not. "

Severus turned to look directly at her, unsure if he had heard such a thing come out of her mouth. Somehow, she always seemed to know exactly what to say to him. His eyes trailed to her lips and stayed there much longer than they should have, causing his mind to go straight to her memory of the two of them locked in an embrace.

"What?" she asked, not sure what to make of his prolonged look or expression.

"It's nothing," he said as his lips curled upwards just the slightest bit. If she only knew.

Hermione smacked him teasingly on the arm. "Are you laughing at me, Severus Snape?"

"Of course not," he managed through a smirk. "That would be rude."

"You are, aren't you? Laugh all you want but you know I'm serious— not to mention right. Waiting for fate to show its ghastly face is agonizing to say the least, but you do it anyway because, in the end of it all, what else can you do?"

"Nothing, I suppose."

"My point exactly. For instance, did you expect to find yourself here of all places?"

"No, I most certainly did not."

"But you managed to adjust to the hand life dealt and much better than I expected."

"Much better than you expected?"

"Don't sound so surprised," she said, turning her gaze to her hands folded neatly in her lap. "You and I both know you would rather be anywhere but here."

Severus couldn't help but notice the faintest twinge of disappointment in her tone. Could she really, truly think he wasn't satisfied with the way things had turned out? He realized she would have no idea that he felt, along with this newfound form of anxiety, a sort of peace and freedom. The idea of never having to lie or swindle just to protect one's life was a fantastic reward for having been found out. But that wasn't the only thing she had given him. Hermione Granger had given him hope and, as far as Severus was concerned, there was no greater gift. To leave her thinking he was miserable with his current situation simply wouldn't do.

"At first, yes. However, the more I find myself in the presence of the three of you, the more I realize my place is here. As you said, one doesn't get to preview what life has in store for them and, as my mother so eloquently put it, one must pull up their socks and get on with whatever they have to do. When I was in the inner circle, practically the Dark Lord's right hand, I could do nothing other than what the situation would allow. Now, I don't have to hide or plot or sit back and watch those die whom I could not save for fear of losing the mask I had created to conceal my true intentions. Do you understand what I'm telling you, Hermione? If I had to choose between here and where I was, I would pick here."

"No, I don't really get it. You are running and hiding for your life now, not to mention taking part in the search for things that were never meant to be discovered. I agree, it's much better... but not by much."

"It is better because I am finally able to control my own actions. I am free from servitude. It is a difficult concept to grasp if one has never been under the thumb of a madman for the majority of their adult life."

"Well, I'm glad you have changed your mind," she said through a wide yawn. "I think you are happier for it, or at least you seem that way."

Severus could not deny that he was happier than he had been in years. He also couldn't deny that she was a big reason for his happiness. He wasn't entirely comfortable telling her that, though."You should go back to bed. You don't have to sit here and watch over me."

"Oh hush up, you, I'll be alright," she said as she brought her legs up to the sofa. The movement also brought her a bit closer to him. "Besides, I've just gotten comfortable."

"For someone of your intellect, you are incredibly stubborn."

"And for someone so reserved, you sure can talk a lot."

"You were the one to suggest that I talk," he said through a mock glare. "Then when I do, you wish me silent."

Hermione didn't answer but smiled slightly as she laid her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes. Severus covertly watched her from out of the corner of his eye, noticing how much her appearance was altered when she was graced with sleep. There were no traces of worry or fear taking control but, rather, genuine peace. She looked precisely as an eighteen-year-old woman was supposed to look— completely at ease and free from the stresses of a war she had no business fighting. It was in that exact moment when Severus knew he was utterly gone. He didn't mind it in the least.

A few hours later, someone else stirred from their sleep. The first thing Ron noticed when we awoke was his splitting headache which was made worse by the sunlight streaming through the window. The second thing he noticed was the loud growling coming from his stomach. He stood up to head for the kitchen in hopes of rectifying both. As he groggily made his way down the hallway, he wondered how long it had been since his encounter with Draco Malfoy at the Burrow. Those thoughts were soon interrupted by the strangest sight he had ever seen. Snape was seated at the end of the sofa, reclined and clearly asleep. There beside him, with her head resting on his chest was Hermione, who was also sleeping. Ron could not control the volume of his voice. "Bloody hell!"

* * *

Author's Notes:

As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks to those who read and review each week. You make me incredibly happy.


	19. All's Fair in Love and War

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 18**

All's Fair in Love and War

Severus stood up with a jolt, sending Hermione crashing to the floor with a thud. Ron stood with his mouth agape, still trying to process what he had seen. Hermione got to her feet, rubbing her recently-bumped head as she gave Ron an angry look. “Honestly, Ronald, what is the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with me? You should ask yourself that! I wake up from a bloody potion-induced coma and see you and Snape sleeping together!”

Ron suddenly found himself the victim of a bevy of blows to the head with a throw pillow Hermione had picked up. In between blows, she managed to rebuke him, “We were _not_ sleeping together!” 

Ron blocked her next attempted strike. “Well, what would you call it then?”

Hermione had dropped the pillow and made a sudden movement toward Ron when Severus stopped her and interjected. “Mr. Weasley, as odd as this scene undoubtedly looked to you, I can assure you there was no impropriety afoot. Miss Granger and I were up late talking and, subsequently, both fell asleep on the sofa. There is nothing more to it than that.”

Ron was incredulous. “She was lying all over you! I’d hardly call that nothing!”

Hermione bristled once more, taking a step toward Ron. Her impulsive movement resulted in him taking a rather large step back for good measure. “He said there was nothing more to it, Ron! Now shut up and drop it.”

“Drop what?” The three of them turned to see that Harry had emerged from his bedroom. “Oh, Ron, you’re up. It’s about time.” Once Harry made it to the sitting room, he could tell his friends had had a row resulting in an exchange of verbal fisticuffs. “What’s all of this?”

Ron was the first to respond, “I woke up with a headache and was going to the kitchen to get something for my head—”

“Going to find something to stuff in your face more likely,” Hermione interrupted.

“Well, what did you expect; I’d been asleep for ages. Anyway, I did have a headache. But that’s not the point. I get out here and I see these two all snuggled up on the sofa. Well, you can see why I’d be surprised.”

 _I knew it,_ Harry thought as he shot gloating glances at both Hermione and Snape. The response he got from Hermione was a look that Harry took to be a command not to say a word about the matter. Snape, on the other hand, looked away immediately. “Ron, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. I don’t believe these two would never do anything inappropriate. After all, Professor Snape is much too old for Hermione.” Before either of them could respond, Harry continued, “What do you say we go to the kitchen for some breakfast, Ron? You must be hungry after your long nap.” With that, the two boys disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Hermione and Severus alone to exchange awkward looks.

“I’m not _that_ old,” Snape said finally, glaring at the space Ron and Harry had previously occupied. 

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but could find no words. She stood, looking at Severus for several moments before eventually managing, “I…I’ll be in my room.” She retreated down the hall as quickly as her feet would carry her, leaving a scowling Snape standing alone.

In the kitchen, Harry had long since finished his breakfast and watched as Ron continued to eat. “How long was I out,” Ron inquired, his mouth full of toast. 

“Three days.”

“Three days? It feels like I haven’t eaten for months.” Ron finished off another piece of toast, his seventh of the morning, before taking his plate to the sink. “So, what have I missed?”

“Well, Snape has decided that I have to teach you Occlumency in case one of us gets captured.”

Ron looked at him with an expression that conveyed both confusion and dread. “Me? What about Hermione?” Harry paused a moment, unsure if he should answer his friend’s question. The expression on Ron’s face turned to disgust. “Let me guess. She’s been getting her lessons from Snape?” Harry nodded his head, confirming his friend’s guess. “Go figure,” Ron spat. “Something’s going on between those two. I don’t care what either of them says. You wouldn’t have believed it, Harry. I’ll never get that image out of my head.”

Harry quickly tried to change the subject. “So, I guess we’ll have to figure out a new plan since Draco ruined our trip to the Burrow.”

For the first time since Ron woke up, Harry saw a smile slowly form on his face. “Well, he may have ruined our trip, but at least he didn’t stop me from getting the address.” 

“You got it?!”

“Yeah, I had just slipped it into my pocket when Draco hexed me.”

Harry smiled. “Brilliant! That’s the first good news I’ve heard in ages.”

“So, I guess we should leave for Penelope’s before too long. Don’t want to waste too much time.”

“Not so fast. You have to learn Occlumency first, remember?”

Ron’s newfound happiness did not last long. A look of revulsion crossed his face. “Oh yeah, forgot about that.” 

Harry gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’m not going to lie to you, Ron. Occlumency is not a fun thing to learn, but I do think it’s necessary given the circumstances. We don’t want to get captured and put Hermione in danger.”

Ron scoffed, “Surely her new mate, _Snape_ , can protect her.”

“Ron, if she heard you talking like that, you’d never hear the end of it. Do you really want another round of what she gave you earlier? Besides, I wouldn’t worry too much over it. It’s Hermione we’re talking about. She would never do anything like that, especially with Snape. That would just be… weird.”

“I know,” Ron said with a sigh, “but I don’t like it, Harry. I don’t like it one bit.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t think it’s anything to get all worked up over. I’ll be waiting in my room whenever you’re ready to start your lessons.”

Ron followed him. “No need to wait. Might as well get this over with.”

*****

The more Severus thought about it, the more he realized he could have wrung the Weasley boy’s neck. His recent friendship with Hermione had been one of the few bright spots of his life. Being with her made the whole ordeal he was going through somewhat bearable. She made him smile – something he was quite unaccustomed to doing. Now, he feared, Weasley had jeopardized everything with only one flap of his idiotic jaw. He had no idea how Hermione would react to Weasley’s accusation of some inappropriate relationship. He feared she may stop talking to him altogether in an effort to dispel any suspicion.

Rather than continue to stew about it, Severus decided he must talk to her and convince her to ignore Weasley’s stupidity. He couldn’t afford to lose her friendship when he had only gained it such a short time ago. He knocked on her door but received no answer. He tried again – still nothing. He placed his ear to the door and was able to make out a sound. Surely she hadn’t left? He pushed that thought quickly from his mind. He would have known if she tried to leave. It was as he feared; she obviously had no desire to speak to him. Trying his luck for the last time, he quietly called out to her through the wooden door. 

“Hermione, it’s me.”

On the other side of the door, Hermione buried her face in her hands with a groan as she recognized his voice. “Come in.” When Severus entered, he saw Hermione slumped on the edge of the bed, looking completely put out and agitated. “Sorry, but I’m not really in any shape to talk right now, nor do I really care to.”

“Fine,” Severus responded, “don’t talk, but at least listen to what I have to say.” Hermione looked up at him. Severus could see melancholy and a fair amount of anger in her eyes, but she didn’t protest. “I know that Weasley embarrassed you out there, but try not to let it get to you. We both know that what happened in the sitting room was completely innocuous. I hope that his comments won’t affect our relationship.”

“What _is_ our relationship exactly?” 

Severus was taken aback. He knew that he was treading on thin ice and therefore must choose his words carefully. He searched for something to say, but could not find anything that seemed like an adequate response. “What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. What is our relationship? Are we friends, are you my professor, or am I just someone you’ve been thrown into this situation with that you have to tolerate?” Severus was silent for several moments as he pondered her question. Before long, she grew impatient. “Well?”

“No. I mean… I don’t think of you as a nuisance that I have to tolerate. You should know that by now. And I’m clearly no longer your professor. I’m not a professor at all.”

“You’re not answering the question. I don’t want to know what we aren’t, I want to know what we are.”

“I would consider you a friend. Granted, I am no expert on friendship, having had only one genuine friend myself, but our current arrangement feels very similar to what it did then.”

“How so?”

“Is this really necessary, Hermione?”

“Yes it is, _Severus_. Now answer my question.”

“You are incredibly impertinent—”

“Yes,” Hermione interrupted sharply, “and bossy and ill tempered. I have a loads more if you ‘d prefer those as well.”

Severus crossed the distance between them and sat down beside her on the bed. “You have no reason to be irritated with me, you know. What did I do to warrant such a foul attitude?”

Hermione flopped backwards with a groan, her untamed tresses sprawling out around her and down her pillow. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I should have never put you in a situation like that. It would have saved us both the embarrassment. Just please don’t be angry with me for what happened.”

“I’m not angry. Believe me, I’ve had enough experience with Weasley to know that you can take very little of what he says seriously. If I had a Knut for every insult I’ve received from him I wouldn’t have to work another day for the rest of my life.” Severus was pleased to see a small smile appear on Hermione’s lips. He was satisfied that he had been able to diffuse the situation before it could cause any harm to his friendship with Hermione, and for that he was relieved. 

Hermione propped herself up by her elbows to look at him, though she was still practically lying down. Severus adjusted himself so that he was angled slightly toward her, but he made sure to keep his distance. If Weasley’s outburst was brought on by the two of sitting close together on the sofa, Severus was sure Weasley would have had a fully fledged conniption fit if he saw them sitting on the same bed. 

“I just wish that those two would stop treating me like I need to be rescued all the time,” Hermione said finally. “I know they mean well, but I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions and taking care of myself. I mean, if there _was_ something going on between us, it wouldn’t be any of their concern, right?”

Severus once again found himself unable to think of anything to say. He didn’t know what he had expected Hermione to say, but it wasn’t that. Hermione seemed to share the same sentiment, as her face turned scarlet as soon as she realized what she had just implied. He watched, slightly amused, as she mumbled something under her breath that sounded eerily similar to a swear word. Hermione then made a rather hasty attempt to retreat from the room.

Without thinking, Severus caught her by the hand as she walked past him. “No.”

“No?” she whispered, not intrepid enough to look directly at him. “No what?”

“No, you’re right. It wouldn’t be any of their concern if there was something between the two of us.” Severus released her hand as he rose from the bed and moved toward the door. “You stay, I’ll go. You should get some rest. You didn’t get much sleep last night and you will need it.”

Hermione looked at him, wishing she knew what he was thinking. She honestly couldn’t believe he had openly said that. What surprised her most of all was the slight flutter she felt rush through her. If he only knew. She tried to speak but thought better of it, as she was sure her words wouldn’t have come out like she had intended them. Instead she managed a weak nod of agreement. 

Severus only offered her faintest hint of a smile as he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone to stew over what he had said. Once outside her room, however, he was left with his own thoughts on the matter. He exhaled deeply as if trying to expel all the tension from the preceding exchange from his body. He was not entirely sure what his conversation had accomplished, but he believed that he had kept Weasley’s comments from screwing things up between him and Hermione. What things exactly existed between him and Hermione, Severus couldn’t quite say. He tried to wrap his mind around the implications of the conversation he had just had when his thought process was interrupted by voices coming from Harry’s bedroom. Weasley’s voice was loud and conveyed a great deal of frustration. Severus could not resist pressing an ear against the door. 

“It’s no use, Harry. If it’s hard for you and Hermione, you know I can’t get it.”

Harry looked at Ron sympathetically. They had been practicing for hours, and Ron had not made measurable progress. “You’ll get it. It just takes time.”

“It’s going to take years at this rate,” Ron said, exasperated.

“You just woke up after being asleep for three days. Your mind isn’t operating at full strength.”

“Why can’t we just say I can do this and leave it at that?”

“Because your inadequacies could place all of us in grave danger, Mr. Weasley.” Harry and Ron had become so engrossed in their argument that neither of them had realized that Snape had entered the room. He looked at them with cool disdain. “What seems to be the issue?”

Harry spoke up. “Ron’s having some trouble finding a way to keep me out of his thoughts.”

“Not surprising. I trust you’ve been holding back a bit, Potter, so as not to cause him too much mental anguish in his weakened state?” Harry nodded in the affirmative. “I was afraid that is what you would do. The Dark Lord will afford him no such courtesies. He will torture him to the brink of death to get the information he wants and will quite enjoy doing it.” Snape turned to face Ron, “The problem is that Potter is gently poking your mind. There is no need, no desperation, to keep him out because the things he is looking at are benign. Allow me to assist you in getting the hang of it, Mr. Weasley. Legilimens!”

Ron cried out involuntarily as Snape barged into his head. Snape made his way as quickly as he could into the deepest recesses of Ron’s mind. Severus sped past the countless memories of things he found to be utterly insignificant – family dinners, vacations, Quidditch matches. He wasn’t interested in those; he had a very specific target in mind. He had suspicions that Weasley harbored romantic feelings for Hermione based on his earlier outburst and he was determined to see if his suspicions were correct. Finally, he found it. He saw Hermione standing in a grubby looking tent as they discussed who was going to take the Slytherin locket. Severus carefully gauged the emotions this image stirred up within Weasley’s mind. At once, Severus could tell that Weasley yearned for more than the girl’s friendship. As he lingered on the image, Weasley’s response was unmistakable and Severus’s suspicions were confirmed. It all made sense now. Weasley had been so upset at what he had seen on the sofa because he secretly wished it had been him sitting there with Hermione. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Ron became aware of Snape’s presence. Ron mustered every drop of resolve he possessed in order to repel Snape from his mind and Severus felt as if he had been knocked backwards before he opened his eyes to find himself in Weasley’s mind no longer. Severus looked at Ron and was met with a stare filled with rage. He knew what Snape had done, Severus understood, and it enraged him. Severus could not stifle a smug grin. “Maybe you aren’t hopeless after all, if you can learn to control it, that is.” Before either Ron or Harry could respond, Snape exited the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. 

Harry looked on, completely abashed by the whole ordeal. “What the hell was that?”

Ron didn’t respond, of course, as he was already heading out the door hot on Snape’s tracks. Harry scrambled out of the room to intercede, but Ron’s agitated voice coming from in the kitchen told him he was a tad late in his attempt. Harry peered around the door frame to see Ron standing over Severus who had seated himself at the kitchen table. 

“What the bloody hell are you playing at, you sodding bastard?!”

“You would do well to watch your tone with me, Weasley.”

“The hell I will,” Ron snapped, knocking the book Snape was holding to the floor. “You are nothing but a pathetic wash-up. You can’t fool me; I know what you’re up to. You’re delusional if—” 

Severus finally rose from his seat looking completely murderous. “On the contrary, _you_ seem to be the delusional one. You think that by trying to ‘save’ her from me that you are endearing yourself to her, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Continue on this path of buffoonery, Mr. Weasley, and I promise you that you’ll regret it.”

“Stop it, both of you!” The two men turned their heads to see Hermione standing next to Harry in the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “What are you doing, Ronald?”

“Apparently, he’s trying to protect your honor,” Severus answered flatly, never taking his eyes of the redhead. 

Such a response earned Ron a particularly nasty look from his friend. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Mione, it’s Snape.”

“I know who he is, Ron. You’re still not answering my question. Do I look like someone who needs protecting—especially from someone who has placed himself in mortal danger to save all of us?”

“I don’t care what he did!”

Hermione advanced on him, angrily waving her finger in his face. “Let me tell you something, Ronald Weasley. I am a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. I have been through things that would make normal people squirm. Do you know who was there with me through most of it? He was. Professor Snape would never do anything to cause me, you, or Harry any harm. I don’t need your protection, Ron, especially when you’re trying to protect me from the wrong thing.”

Ron’s face was almost the same shade of red as his hair. He couldn’t believe she was standing up for him of all people. “He tortured you, Hermione! I saw it with my own eyes. If that isn’t enough for you, how about the time he slammed my head into the floor and almost choked the life out of Harry. He did all this in a matter of minutes. Have you forgotten about all that? Do you really want someone like that tailing after you?”

“First off, no one is tailing after me, least of all Professor Snape. Secondly, I will not have this discussion with you if you insist on dragging what happened at Malfoy Manor into the conversation. That’s over and he did what he had to do to get us out of that mess, nothing more.”

“You talk like he’s your friend or something. You don’t even know h—”

Faster than any of the men in the room could have imagined, Hermione reached out and grabbed the collar of Ron’s shirt, pulling him down so they were face to face. “He _is_ my friend. If I hear of any such nonsense coming from your gob again, you will see a side of me that will put your mother to shame! We don’t have time for all of this pettiness.” 

Severus couldn’t help the small grin that had appeared across his face. He had the ridiculous urge to stick his tongue out at the redhead like some first-year. However, that notion quickly flew out the window when Hermione turned around to give him his share of her agitation. 

“And you,” she said, taking a step toward Snape, “allowing him to goad you like that after what you just told me.” 

“He started it!” Ron answered matter-of-factly from behind her.

“Oh, grow up! I don’t care who started it. What I do care about is both of you. It’s time to move on from everything that has happened. I don’t expect you to like each other, but I expect you to act civil. We can’t end this if we’re at each other’s throats all the time.”

Harry finally spoke up, realizing the worst of the argument was over. “She’s right, Ron. Just let it go. I’m sure Hermione and Professor Snape can handle themselves appropriately. Right, Hermione?”

“Of course,” she replied, ignoring a rather rude noise coming from her disgruntled friend. 

“Now that this is settled,” Harry said, pulling his redheaded friend toward the door, “Ron and I are going to go practice some more.”

“I don’t really feel like it, Harry,” Ron said as he walked purposefully to his room and shut the door behind him.

Hermione started after him, but was stopped by Harry’s outstretched arm. “Maybe give him, and yourself, some time to cool off?” Hermione sighed but acquiesced, opting to follow Ron’s lead and shut herself inside her bedroom. Harry looked at Snape. “Well, I’m just going to go to my room and wait until this mess blows over.”

“Believe it or not,” Snape answered, “I happen to agree with you, Potter.”

*****

Several hours later, Ron and Harry came into the sitting room to spot Hermione and Snape sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, completely engrossed in their preferred reading material. Hermione regarded her two friends for a moment before turning her attention back to her book. Severus, on the other hand, didn’t even bother to look up from the book he was marking in. Harry plopped down in the closest seat as Ron continued on toward the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” Hermione said, just before Ron disappeared through the door. 

“Don’t worry about it. It was all a misunderstanding, right, Professor?”

This time Severus did look up. He didn’t look to Ron, but rather the person seated at the other end of the sofa. As much as he wanted to rebuke the idiot boy he also wanted to keep the peace. Hermione discreetly nodded in Ron’s direction, as if she really expected him to respond to such nonsense.

“Indeed,” Severus managed as he gave his Potions journal his undivided attention. 

Ron shook his head, but said nothing as he turned and entered the kitchen. His absence gave Hermione the opportunity she needed speak to Snape.

“Do you think he’ll be able to pick up on Occlumency quickly? I am tired of sitting around this house waiting.”

“Yes. Weasley has the ability but lacks conviction. He was able to repel me but he has trouble controlling it.”

“He kept you out?” Hermione asked, slightly shocked. 

“Not at first. However, when I came across something he didn’t wish me to see, he was particularly forceful.”

“That’s good,” Hermione began. “We can finally start looking for the Horcruxes again. We’ll have to figure out another way to find Penelope Clearwater. Malfoy spoiled the first attempt.” 

“No, he didn’t,” Harry said as he positioned himself more comfortably in his chair. “He may have almost killed Ron, but we managed to get what we went after.”

Severus closed his journal, sitting it down on the sofa beside him. This was news to him. “Did he know why you wanted it? Did he see the address?”

“Not unless he heard Ron and me talking about it. Come to think of it, I don’t think we even talked about why or what we were looking for while we were in the house. I do know Draco didn’t see the card because Ron managed to put it in his pocket right before he was cursed.”

“I have no doubt Draco has told the Dark Lord the two of you were there. As long as you’re positive Mr. Malfoy doesn’t know you are looking for Miss Clearwater, you and Weasley should be safe to go first thing in the morning.”

“What about his Occlumency lessons?” Harry questioned. “You said he has to learn to control whatever it is he does to keep you out.”

“I said first thing in the morning, Potter. Weasley has all night to learn to control himself. If not, Hermione and I will go and the two of you will stay.”

Severus realized the second her name slipped from his lips that he had possibly made a mistake. He wanted to keep things as formal as possible while in front of others so as to keep any suspicions at bay. After the episode that occurred early that morning, Severus didn’t want to take any chances. He looked quickly at Hermione only to find her looking at her friend. Dreading the look on the boy’s face, Severus averted his attention back to Harry. Much to his surprise the Harry didn’t seem to notice the fact he had used Hermione’s given name, or if he did, he kept any comments about the matter to himself. A wise decision after seeing the verbal thrashing Weasley received, Severus thought to himself. 

Harry finally broke the silence. “Well it’s settled then, I suppose.”

About that time, Ron walked back into the room, a half-eaten sandwich in hand. “What’s settled?”

“You have to learn Occlumency by the morning,” Harry said with an uneasy sigh. “Otherwise, we’re stuck here while these two go off on the hunt for Penelope Clearwater.”

Ron looked ill after he learned what was in store for him. “By in the morning?” 

“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Harry teased as he stood. “Are you ready?”

“No offence, Harry, but you’re dead awful at Legilimency. If you three expect me to learn how to do this by dawn, I’m afraid it’ll have to be Professor Snape who does the teaching.”

Harry and Hermione looked to Snape only to discover the black clad wizard was already out of his seat and heading toward the basement— his preferred teaching location. “Ron, are you sure that’s a good idea? The last time he did the teaching, you two nearly throttled each other.”

Snape stopped in front of Ron, eyeing him with calculation. “That won’t be an issue this time, will it, Weasley?”

“Not at all, sir.” 

Severus said nothing else as he spun on his heel to descend the stairs.

“Ron, behave yourself,” Hermione warned her friend’s retreating form. 

“I am behaving,” Ron called out from the kitchen. “You wanted civil, so I’m being civil!”

Hermione turned to face Harry only to see a ridiculous grin plastered on his face. “He’s having a go at me, isn’t he?”

“I think they’re both playing by your rules, Hermione.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds. I think you have a few admirers.”

* * *

Author’s Notes:

As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Thanks to all of you who read and review each week. I write for you.


	20. White Winter Hymnal

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 19**

White Winter Hymnal 

Harry and Ron awoke in the morning and began packing for the journey to seek out Penelope Clearwater. Ron had been practicing extensively with Snape in order to learn Occlumency. There were several times Snape had wanted to end their lessons for the day, but Ron was insistent that they continue. Ron's resolve would have impressed Harry had he not had the sneaking suspicion that Ron's newfound eagerness to learn was less an attempt to further their mission than it was an attempt to impress Hermione. Regardless of his friend's motivations, Harry was glad that Ron had learned quickly enough that they did not have to waste much time waiting to leave. The days in the house had made Harry restless and he welcomed the chance to get out and start hunting Horcruxes again.

Ron, on the other hand, did not feel so eager to leave. In his rush to learn Occlumency he had failed to take into account that finishing his lessons meant that he and Harry would be leaving Hermione and Snape alone together sooner rather than later. Still, the moment when Snape had announced to the group that Ron had managed to learn Occlumency well enough that they could leave in the morning had been a moment of great pride for Ron. Ron had been determined to make Snape eat his words about him putting everyone in danger because of his incompetence and he was satisfied that he had done so. He pulled the envelope with Penelope Clearwater's address on it from his pocket. "You ready, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said as he zipped his pack. "Let's tell them we're leaving." Ron nodded in agreement, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and proceeded down the hall behind Harry. Hermione and Snape were waiting in the sitting room. "Well, we're getting ready to head out. We just wanted to say goodbye."

"I trust that you remember the plan?"

"Yes, Professor. Ron and I will head to Penelope's and come back here as quickly as possible to share what we find. We won't go anywhere else."

Hermione rose from the sofa, walked over to Harry, and hugged him tightly. "Be careful." She turned to Ron. The two of them exchanged nervous looks before she flung her arms around him as well. "You too. You can't let anything happen to you while I'm still mad at you."

Ron gave her a slight smile when she released him. "I'll do my best. Well, Harry, we better get going." With that, the two boys hooked arms, and disappeared on the spot.

Several hours had passed and Harry and Ron had still not returned. Hermione had taken to pacing the floor frantically. "I wish they'd come back or at least let us know something. It was really dangerous to send them. What if they get captured?"

Snape grabbed her by the shoulders in an effort to stop her nervous pacing. "Relax. You are assuming the worst when you have no reason to do so. She might not be home and they could be waiting for her to return. You have no reason to believe anything bad has happened."

"I know, but I worry about them. The Dark Lord undoubtedly has most of his people searching high and low for Harry."

"You have told me countless times how much I underestimate Potter and Weasley's abilities. Now it seems you are the one who doubts them."

"It's not that. I know they are very capable of defending themselves but not against a group of ten Death Eaters!"

Severus was tempted to chuckle at her hysteria but decided that it would be unwise. Instead, he took to one of the armchairs with his Potions journal. Just as he had hoped, Hermione followed his lead a few minutes later, taking a book of her own and settling down on the sofa. She didn't read, but instead watched Severus out of the corner of her eye.

She marveled at the fact he was always so calm and collected. Being holed-up did not seem to affect him in the slightest. She was convinced she was going loopy from sitting around. As much as she enjoyed her grandmother's home, she was tired of looking at its walls. Her attention was momentarily diverted from her restlessness as Severus stood up rather abruptly. "I'm going to the kitchen," he said. "Would you like some tea?" Hermione nodded in halfhearted agreement and went to staring listlessly out the window rather than at her book.

Severus made his way to the kitchen, desperate to think of some way to distract Hermione from worrying about her friends. Try as he might, he could not figure out how to counteract her uneasiness should the tea not do the trick. When he returned from the kitchen with two cups of tea, however, he saw something that took him by surprise. For the first time in a long time, Severus saw her genuinely smile. "Your mood has changed?"

"I just noticed that it's snowing!" She could tell that Severus failed to grasp how wonderful the snowfall was. "It's the first snow of the winter. It makes me think of Christmas." She searched Severus's face but saw no trace of understanding or empathy. "Don't you like Christmas?"

His expression remained unchanged. "Not particularly."

"Why not? Everyone likes Christmas."

"Everyone likes Christmas because they have memories, usually their happiest memories, associated with it. It was never that way for me. Christmas was a day like any other. We had no family dinners, no warm and fuzzy moments. My mother would usually buy me a book or a sweater, or maybe some candy. My father was always too drunk to remember what day it was."

"That's awful."

Severus looked at Hermione and could not help but notice that his pity party had erased the smile from her face. He felt a sudden surge of guilt. Quickly, he added, "It's alright. I would imagine the holiday was much different for you."

Hermione's lips began to turn into a grin. She knew she shouldn't rub it in that she had come from a loving, close-knit family, but the stories of her Christmases past began pouring out. "Oh, yes. For one thing, it's the one time my parents weren't so controlling over sweets. The rest of the year they were always going on about sugar being bad for my teeth, but at Christmas, my mum always made cookies and candy. The house smelled wonderful." Severus sat down beside her on the sofa. He was somewhat taken aback when Hermione relaxed into him slightly, almost resting her head on his shoulder. "On Christmas Eve, we would go to church for the Midnight Mass then come home and wait for Father Christmas. I could never sleep, though. I was too excited." Severus was silent. He could not identify with any of the sentimental fluff that Hermione was talking about, but, for some reason, he enjoyed listening to her talk about it. Maybe it was the happiness in her voice, which had been absent for quite some time. Maybe it was just nice to talk about something other than the war, Horcruxes, and Voldemort for a change. His thoughts were interrupted as she continued talking. "So, you never did anything like that? You never even played in the snow?"

"Not since I was a child. An old friend of mine shared your fervor for the holiday. Personally, I thought of it as more of a nuisance, but was dragged out in the weather regardless of my feelings on the matter."

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "An old friend? Who was it?"

Severus was not ready to discuss Lily Evans with Hermione. Truthfully, he never discussed his childhood friend turned unrequited obsession with anyone. That was strictly his business. Business he had finally come to terms with, and wanted to leave in the past where it belonged. He had to change the subject.

Severus turned to her, masking his unease with a compelling look—a single eyebrow faintly raised, head inclined ever so slightly in her direction, and piercing dark eyes that looked directly to hers. He was toying with her in a way he knew he ought not, but couldn't resist. Severus Snape, when trying to appear mischievous, came across sinfully intimidating and equally alluring. "Who it was is of little consequence. The more pressing issue, however, is why it is such a hard thing to believe?"

The look on his face caused Hermione to stutter. "I uh…I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that…"

Severus cut her off. "You never saw me socializing at Hogwarts?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I had an image to uphold in front of students. I couldn't let them start thinking of me as being just like them, now could I?" He smiled slyly causing Hermione to let out a giggle.

"I suppose not. Anyway, what kind of stuff did you and your friend do?"

Snape sat for a moment, clearly reminiscing over the times he had shared with Lily. "The usual – snowmen, snow angels, snowball fights."

"Snow cream?"

Severus's brow furrowed. "No, not as I recall."

"That's a shame. Snow cream was one of my favorite Christmas traditions." Suddenly, she got an idea. "Stay right there. I'm going to go outside and get some snow."

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"For snow cream obviously."

Severus stood, and started off toward the kitchen after her. "I'll go with you."

Hermione was on her knees, busy rummaging through a pantry that held an assortment of bowls and storage containers. "You'll do no such thing. It will only take me a second."

"I'm not about to let you go outside by yourself. It is nearly dark and the snow makes anything hardly visible."

Hermione made it to her feet with a plastic bowl in hand and a smile on her face. "Honestly, I'll be fine. Besides, you don't even have your shoes on." Hermione walked past him to a drawer containing the cutlery. She pulled a large wooden spoon from the jumble of mismatched silverware, shutting the drawer with her hip as she turned.

Severus planted himself in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why are you so insistent on going out in the weather?"

"It has been a very long time since I was able to enjoy anything. I have been constantly hunting and running, it would be nice to have a little piece of something pleasant to take my mind off everything. The same goes for Harry and Ron. They'll be back shortly, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind the surprise. Plus, you have never had it and that simply won't do. "

Realizing he wasn't going to win, Severus handed Hermione her jumper hanging on the hook by the door as he moved out of her way. "You have three minutes. If you're not back inside this house in three minutes, I'm coming after you, whether you have collected your snow or not."

Hermione yanked the jumper from his hands, putting it on hastily. "Three minutes isn't nearly long enough to find the good snow."

"One hundred eighty, one hundred seventy-nine, one hundred seventy-eight, one hundred seventy—"

Hermione did not waste any more of her time, as she was out the door searching the grounds surrounding the house for the best possible snow as soon as Severus began his unreasonable countdown. It was nearly nightfall, and the snow was falling at a steady pace, making it difficult to see. It was starting to accumulate fast. Squinting through the precipitation, Hermione saw the snow had started to pile up on the stone fencing lining the property. She reasoned she could get a fair amount of fresh, clean snow for the four of them to share. Keeping Snape's deadline in mind, she took off toward the wall.

Just as she made her way to the low, rock wall lining the edge of the country road, Hermione was hurled to the ground by an unseen force. Startled, she scrambled for her wand in her back pocket. The moment her hands found it, she was struck sharply in the stomach. The wand dropped from her grasp as she fell on her hands and knees, gasping for the air that had been knocked from her body. She looked up to see Antonin Dolohov glaring down at her with a manic look on his face.

Terror as fierce as she had ever known coursed through her. She was wandless and face to face with a Death Eater. She had to get back to the house. Hermione struggled to her feet before being smacked by the back of Dolohov's hand. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her feet, his wand digging painfully into her temple. "Make one move and it will be your last," he sneered. "I'm looking for your companion, and you're going to show me where he is."

"Harry… Harry isn't here."

"Oh, not him. I meant your new friend, Snape."

"He isn't here either."

Hermione's cheek stung as Dolohov slapped her once more. "You filthy, lying Mudblood. You think I'm an idiot? You expect me to believe that they left you here all alone?"

"I'm telling the truth," Hermione said, scrambling for her words. "I wanted to go with them, but… but they made me stay here. They thought I'd be safe where none of you could find me."

"I don't believe you. Maybe with some persuasion, you'll stop lying to me and make it easier on everyone. Cruc—"

"Enough, Dolohov!" True to his word, Snape had appeared seemingly out of thin air. "Let her go or I'll be forced to dispose of you as I have already done to so many of your cohorts."

Dolohov seemed oblivious to the threat. "The Fidelius Charm, eh? Clever. Show me or I'll kill her on the spot. Can't have your new friends running back here and hiding."

"The house belonging to Hermione Granger sits right here, Antonin. It matters little to me." Dolohov looked past Snape to see a house appear where before there had been nothing. "Now do as I say and let her go."

A sinister smile appeared on the Death Eater's lips. "And deprive the Dark Lord of his fun? I think not. I'll be taking the both of you back for him to play with. This one will beg for something as sweet as death by the time we're done with her."

"Take care, Antonin," Severus warned, drawing his wand as he walked toward them. "Don't force me to overstep the bounds of courtesy. Let her go."

"You're such a fool, Snape," Dolohov began with a wide grin. "You see, if you know what a man values, you know what moves him. I think I've found what moves you, haven't I?"

Severus took several looming steps toward the Death Eater. "You've spoken with Narcissa, I see."

"You left Narcissa in a terrible state, and almost cost Lucius his life. Had it not been for me, they would be dead," Antonin said as he brought a strong hand around Hermione's neck. She could feel his nails scraping painfully over her skin. "Tell me, does the Mudblood even know the man she clings to for protection? Does she know the numbers, Severus—the absurd number of witches and wizards you tortured to the brink of madness?"

Severus's jaw clenched tightly. Dolohov was practically beaming, knowing he was pushing all of the right buttons. "I take that as a no. I'll be sure to show her how you used to do it. How you used to kill them in every way they feared—"

"Don't listen to him!" Hermione pleaded, struggling against the Death Eater. "Please just go—"

Antonin dug his nails further into her skin. Hermione could feel tiny, warm droplets of blood rolling down her neck. "No! You will listen to this," Dolohov hissed. "Your savior has a deadly gift, little girl. He can get into the very essence of a person and draw out their worst fears. He can make a person relive their fears over and over again. It's all a delusion of the mind, of course, but it is vicious. Though his hands appear clean to you, they are stained red from the blood of those unfortunate enough to find themselves at the end of his wand."

Dolohov's hand moved swiftly to Hermione's hair, yanking her head back so he could see into her eyes. "Have you got in her head yet, brother? Or perhaps you've lowered yourself to slither into another part of her?"

"Enough!"

The Death Eater released a barking laugh. He had finally managed to get Snape where he wanted him. Antonin knew if he angered him enough, he wouldn't run. It was only a matter of time before he would send for the strike. "I'm only getting started! You see, I was told to bring you in. Anyone else is really just an afterthought. I think I might like to make you watch her die. The Dark Lord would give me that much for bringing him the slime who betrayed us all."

Severus scoffed. "You are a marionette on the Dark Lord's string! He tugs at your tethers, sending you to do his bidding while he remains untouched. You and your wants mean little to him. When will you start to think for yourself, Antonin? When will you see that you will never win?"

"We've already won—"

"You have won nothing! You are as idiotic as you are inept!"

"We'll see about that."

"Then get to the bloody point!"

Dolohov moved his wand to Hermione's back, stunning her in the process. She fell to the ground with a soft thump, completely unconscious. Antonin narrowed his gaze as he stepped over her motionless body, and moved toward Severus. "Vengeance, that's what I want. I trusted you like a brother! We were all in this together, fighting for the same goal. You took the oath just as I did, and you know what follows when it's broken!"

"Spare me your sentimental tripe, you blathering idiot." Snape shifted into a dueling stance, his wand fixed on the other man. "If vengeance is all you seek, come. Claim it."

Unexpectedly, Dolohov kicked the ground hard sending a cloud of snow into the air. He pointed his wand, transfiguring the tiny particles into deadly shards of jagged glass. Dolohov sent the glass spiraling directly at Snape. Fortunately, Severus was just as quick. He conjured a wall of solid stone out of thin air. The shards of glass rammed into the wall, sounding like rain on a tin roof as they clattered and scraped down the stone. Snape blasted the wall into oblivion, knocking Dolohov backwards several feet.

Severus took a deep, steadying breath as he stared down at the Death Eater. Some twenty feet away, he could see that Dolohov had made it to his feet, busy brushing the bits of rock and snow from his clothes and hair. He looked up to see Snape leering at him with profound hatred.

"Will you ever forgo the theatrics, Antonin?" Snape chastised.

"I would hardly call it theatrics, more along the lines of mastery if you ask me."

"You really are quite the smug fuck, aren't you?"

The arrogant smile disappeared from the Death Eater's face. "I suppose you're the one to knock me off my high horse?"

Instead of a response, Dolohov was bombarded by a bright, white light that had erupted from the tip of Snape's wand. It was a pulsating light meant to disorient an advancing foe. Dolohov started to back away from Severus with haste. Severus's seized the opportunity and cast a Shield Charm over Hermione before turning his attention back to Dolohov. Unfortunately, the light from Severus's wand had not had the lasting effects he had hoped for, as the Death Eater seemed prepared for his attack. Snape sent the potentially deadly Sectumsempra Curse toward Dolohov, but the Dark wizard deflected it and responded with a Knockback Jinx that Snape dodged easily.

The blinding light ceased, only to be replaced by an orange bolt. Dolohov flew through the air, end over end, until he was stopped by the side of the house. Snape wasted no time in disarming Dolohov while the Death Eater was still incapacitated from the impact. Dolohov tried to raise his head only to have it sent crashing into the ground by the heel of Severus's boot. "Antonin, it would appear that the Dark Lord is slipping in his judgment. Why else would he send an incompetent twit to face me alone? Although, I bet you have reinforcements at the ready, don't you? You were probably planning to send the word once you realized this was too much of a job for you." Antonin laughed under his foot, which infuriated Severus all the more. He dug his heel into the side of his head a bit harder. "Yield, you fool! You are unarmed and outranked."

"Why don't you just end it, Snape? Kill me, you bastard! Kill me!"

"I'd rather you not force me to do that, Antonin. You see, I've seen the error of my ways. Too many people have died in this ordeal already, many of them by my own hand. It's true, there were days when I would have tortured and killed an opponent in your precarious position, but those days are gone. While I certainly could kill you now and, believe me, there is a huge part of me that wants to, but I'm not that man anymore. I'm better than I was then and am certainly better than those of you who still remain loyal to the Dark Lord and his misguided cause. Leave this place while you have the chance."

"You were always so quick to assume, Snape. Tell me, who's the smug fuck now?"

Something about the tone of his voice told Severus something was horribly off about the current situation. He wasn't sure at first, but it didn't take him long to discover Dolohov's meaning. For a moment, Severus actually thought he had knocked him silly until he turned his eyes to wand in his hand. He realized the wand he was holding didn't belong to Dolohov—it lacked the trademark white skull at the hilt. Before he could react, he found himself being catapulted up high into the air by a discharge from Dolohov's true wand. Snape managed to right himself just enough to Disapparate in midair. A split second later, he appeared on the ground behind Dolohov and sent a scarlet stream of light straight for his head. The Stunning Spell missed him by inches and crashed into a small tree, splintering it.

"Back so soon?" Antonin taunted as he spun to face him. "And here I thought the coward had scampered off."

Snape lunged forward, releasing a deafening blast from his wand. Dolohov hit the ground, rolling to dodge the bolt of magic. Snape repeated again and again, purposefully forcing him to turn his back to the house. He had managed to corner the Dark wizard. Without warning, Severus stopped his assault, and he took the form of a black mist. He shot straight up in the air and out of sight. The Death Eater swiveled on his heels, desperately trying to spot his assailant. Just as Dolohov turned his back, Snape crashed into him. The two wizards skidded in the snow before falling to the ground in a pile of floundering arms and legs.

Severus's solid left hook collided with Dolohov's face, once, twice, and a third time before the Death Eater managed to lock his hands around Snape's neck. Using all of his weight, Antonin slammed Severus into the ground, his face twisting with rage. With his hands wrapped tightly around Severus's neck, Antonin began to apply as much force as he could attempting to strangle the life from him or snap his neck, whichever came first. Snape wedged his wand between their bodies, releasing a silent Gouging Spell. Dolohov fell backwards, roaring in discomfort and clawing at his middle. A slash in his shirt revealed a deep gash that had appeared in his chest. "You fucking scum!"

"Had enough?" Severus gasped heavily as he got up from the ground, "or perhaps you'd like to have another go?"

Antonin screamed in agitation and let loose one of the most vicious strings of magic Snape had ever had the misfortune of deflecting. Winded, Severus hardly had time to send any spells of his own in retaliation. He had to rely solely on deflecting the curses at right moment, hoping they would hit the desired target. He missed one.

Antonin's strong Impediment Jinx sent Snape hurtling into a nearby outbuilding. He crashed completely through the brittle side of the wooden shed, and landed on his back on the other side. Just as Snape made it to his feet, a violent purple explosion illuminated the night air. Severus scarcely had enough time to send the deadly spell rebounding back toward Antonin. This time, the spell hit its maker.

Dolohov fell to the ground, making a sort of retching sound. His wand tumbled from his hand, landing a foot or so from him. Disoriented, he scrambled clumsily for it, but Snape was faster. He caught it under his boot, snapping it into. "How the mighty have fallen. You've lost Antonin. Your kind will always lose."

"You're the one who has lost, Snape," the Death Eater ground out, clutching the Dark Mark on branded into his skin. "We've got you." Before the fallen Death Eater wheezed out the last word, Severus's ears were filled with the vociferous booming of multiple wizards Apparating into the area. He turned on his heel to get to Hermione, but the moment he moved his foot from Dolohov's wand, Antonin buried the blunt magical instrument almost to the bone in Severus's calf.

Snape lost his footing and fell to the ground, clutching his leg. He looked down to see blood spilling from the puncture wound, turning the pure, white snow so red it looked black. He ran his hand up the wand until he found the white skull at its end. He grasped it to pull it out, but let go immediately when he felt the pure magic of the core leech into his body. He knew the longer the wand was lodged into his leg, the more raw magic that would seep into him. That wasn't a good thing. In fact, magic in such a raw form was lethal. He had to get it out. Severus bit down hard on a knuckle to keep from crying out as he grasped the now bloodstained skull once more. Tears pooled in his eyes as he pulled on it easily, trying to dislodge the wood from his flesh. The sound of snow crunching underfoot halted his effort. Severus rolled over trying to make it to his feet, but he was knocked back into the reddened snow by an assailant he did not see.

"For fuck's sake, Dolohov! Are you trying to kill yourself?" chastised a familiar voice. "Bella, get him to the Dark Lord before he keels over. Draco and I will take care of these two."

Snape looked up through his now soaked hair to see Lucius Malfoy with a twisted grin on his face. The last thing he saw was the bottom of Lucius's boot heading straight for his face. There was nothing but blackness after that.

* * *

Author's Notes:

As always, I appreciate and welcome reviews with open arms! I don't think I could give my thanks enough to those of you who read and review each time I update. You are simply fantastic.

Also, I must give credit where credit is due. The title for this chapter was totally stolen from a song by the Fleet Foxes.


	21. The Seeker Goes Seeking

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 20**

The Seeker Goes Seeking

The street outside Penelope Clearwater's flat was full of life with crowds going to and fro with their holiday shopping and otherwise normal lives. The multitude of Muggles did not see the two young wizards who had positioned themselves on the steps leading up to the front door of flat number five as they sat huddled closely together under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Thankfully, the hustle and bustle coming from the Muggle passersby were able to drown out the chattering of teeth and austere tones.

"This is ridiculous, Harry. We've been waiting all bloody day, and it's starting to get dark."

"And we'll keep waiting until she gets here."

"What if she's gone into hiding? Being Muggle-born and all, she'd be mental not to hide with that Muggle-born Registration rubbish."

"Then this seems like a good a place as any for her to escape the Ministry and its Snatchers. Why not hide in plain sight? They'd be less likely to come looking for her if she hides in Muggle London."

"Out of sight out of mind, I suppose," said Ron as shifted uncomfortably under the cloak, exposing his worn shoes.

Harry quickly jerked the magical cloth back to its original position. "Ron, you are going to have to sit still. We can barely fit under this thing without you moving about."

"Well, excuse me," he snapped. "I'm pretty sure my arse is frozen to these stairs. Of course the temperature would drop twenty degrees and her flat building would have metal steps. This is brutal."

Harry laughed at Ron's hateful whining as he clapped him on the back. "I know what you mean. It could be much worse, you know. It could be raining or snowing. Just imagine if you had to share such a tight space with Snape."

Ron grimaced. "First of all, mate, I'd never let myself get in such a spot with Snape. And if it starts to rain, I'm leaving you here and I won't give it another thought."

"We won't have to wait for the rain. Look to your right. Is that her?"

Ron turned to spot a slim woman with long, curly blonde hair heading straight for them. The blonde ringlets were whipping mercilessly around her face, causing her to pull her blue and bronze colored scarf around her tightly in an attempt to contain it. "Yeah, that's her. What do we do?"

Harry shrugged. "We wait until she goes in and then knock on the door, I guess."

"Well that's a good plan and all, but we're sort of in her way. She'll fall all over us. "

"Good point," Harry reasoned as he hooked arms with Ron. "Stand up, and we'll move over enough to let her pass."

Unfortunately for the two of them, Penelope Clearwater was in a hurry to get out of the cold. In an attempt to keep themselves covered with the invisibility cloak, Ron and Harry were not fast enough in moving. As Penelope reached the first step, her foot caught in the dense invisible fabric and she toppled down on top of them. The cloak was pulled from their heads as a result. Upon seeing the two wizards appear out of thin air, Penelope squeaked with surprise as Harry and Ron struggled to stay upright

Ron and Harry each grabbed an arm and hoisted her to her feet. "I'm so sorry Penelope, are you alright?"

The former Ravenclaw shook herself free from the boys. "No, I'm not alright, Harry Potter! Why are you loitering outside my door?"

Harry held his hands out in surrender. "Not so loud, please. We're here because we need your help."

She was obviously unconvinced given the way she glared at the both of them. "I don't know how I can possibly help you. I haven't been part of that world for nearly a year now. Now if you'll excuse m—"

"Listen, we only want to talk to you," Ron spoke up trying to diffuse the tension. "Just a few minutes of your time and we'll leave you be."

She looked around nervously, watching for any prying eyes. "Is anyone else with you?"

"No," Harry began, "it's just us. Hermione is somewhere safe waiting for us. Anyone who wants to cause you any harm doesn't have a clue we're here. We wouldn't have come if it was going to place you in any sort of danger."

Penelope turned from the boys without another word as she began digging in her coat pockets for her house key. "Come on then, before someone sees you." She opened the door, allowing the boys to pass through before she entered behind them.

"How long have you two been waiting out there?" she asked as she deposited her coat on its hook and disappeared into her kitchen.

"A little more than four hours," Harry replied.

"More like four years," Ron added begrudgingly.

Harry whacked him on the shoulder. "Be nice. She doesn't have to help us, Ron."

Ron rubbed his shoulder gingerly. "I was just being honest. It really did feel like we were out there for ages."

Penelope cleared her throat from the doorway leading into the kitchen, bringing both of the boys back to the situation at hand. "Would either of you like any tea?"

"That'd be great. Wouldn't it, Ron?"

"Lead the way."

Harry and Ron walked to the kitchen, each of them taking a chair from the table. Penelope was busy with preparing tea for the three of them, but that did not stop her from asking several questions. "You said you were with Hermione?"

"Yeah," Ron offered. "It's the three of us and Prof— ouch!" Penelope turned around at the unexpected ruckus to see Ron rubbing his ankle as he gave Harry a glare that could have turned him to stone. "Oy, you lunatic, what was that for?!"

Harry ignored his angry friend, turning his attention back to Penelope. "It's just the three of us."

"Well, if Hermione Granger can't help you, I'm not sure what good I'll be."

"Hermione is an intelligent girl, but she isn't a Ravenclaw."

Penelope took the seat between Ron and Harry as she waited for the tea to brew. "What does House affiliation have to do with it?"

"The three of us have discussed this at length, and we decided a Ravenclaw would be able to give us the information we needed to end this once and for all."

Penelope looked at him like he had grown another head. "End it? You are mental, Harry Potter? Is that why the three of you aren't at school? You're trying to fight You-Know-Who, aren't you?"

Harry's brow furrowed. This was not going as planned. "I know it doesn't make sense, but I can't go into a lot of the specifics, Penelope. But yes, we are working against the Dark Lord. We need you to help."

There was a considerable silence after that, as none of them really knew what to say. Suddenly, the sound of the teapot screeching from the across the room caused the three of them to jump.

Penelope cleared her throat again in an attempt to gather her bearings. "Excuse me."

As soon as she was gone, Ron leaned across the table, brining his mouth to Harry's ear. "We have to tell her something. This sticking to the shadows strategy isn't doing the trick."

"I know that," Harry hissed. "Just give me a minute."

Ron simply shook his head. "Do what you want, you're the boss."

Harry started to fiddle with his hair—it was a nervous tick he could not seem to shake. "How long have you been living in Muggle London?"

Penelope brought the teapot to the table, and then went to retrieve three cups from the panty. "Almost a year. After I left Hogwarts, I went into hiding for fear of being sent to Azkaban. Why do you ask?"

"Do you talk to anyone—you know from school? Do you see anyone?"

"I don't talk to anyone from the magical world unless it's absolutely necessary. I have severed all ties with my relatives in order to keep them safe. I go to work, I come home. That's it. Again, why do you ask?"

"I ask because I am about to let you tell you something that could possibly get you snatched by the Ministry if you speak a word of it to anyone."

"I'm not sure I want to know if that's the case."

"As long as you keep your mouth shut and stay out of sight you should be fine," Ron chimed in, helping himself to a steaming cup of tea.

"Thank you, Ron, for being incredibly helpful. How do you put up with that?" she queried, turning to Harry.

"Some days are better than others. Anyway, I need to be certain you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"I won't say a word, Harry. I'm not an idiot."

"Says the girl who dated my tight-arsed brother." Harry nearly spit his tea across the table at Ron's ill attempt at humor. He looked nervously to Penelope to see her smiling.

"Touché."

Ron took that as the invitation he needed to get straight to the point. "What Harry is trying to say is he, Hermione, and I are working on something left to us by Professor Dumbledore—a mission of sorts. We are the only ones who know about it and if the wrong sort were to get wind of the fact that you knew, you'd be just as dead as us by the time they caught us. Can we trust you to trust us?"

Penelope was quite for several moments before she looked to Harry. "Tell me what you can. I'll see what I can do."

Harry sat a little straighter in his chair as he tried his best to explain the task they were left with without giving too much information away. "We have been on the run looking for various objects that are of significant importance to the Dark Lord. We have found several of these objects, but we are missing one."

"What sort of objects?"

"Well, we know one is the Cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff."

"Another was Salazar Slytherin's locket," Ron added.

"So, you're thinking the last object belongs to Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Yes," both boys replied in unison.

"The House of Ravenclaw doesn't really have any sort of symbol or object associated with it. Are you sure it isn't something from Gryffindor?"

"Yes, we're positive. The Sorting Hat never leaves the castle and the Sword of Godric Gryffindor is with Hermione."

"Okay, just give me a second to think."

"Keep in mind, the object will most likely be small, relatively unnoticeable."

"That doesn't really help me, Harry."

Harry persisted, regardless of her comment. "Did Rowena Ravenclaw own anything small, anything of great importance?"

"There is only one known relic of the House of Ravenclaw, but it's a useless suggestion."

"We have heard stranger things, I'm sure," Harry said as reassuringly as possible. "Anything will be a step in the proper direction."

"Well, do you know the story of Rowena Ravenclaw?" Penelope asked before taking a sip from her tea cup.

The two of them shook their heads.

"As you know, Rowena Ravenclaw was one of the four founders of Hogwarts. She was renowned for her superior wit, creativity, and intelligence. She has been regarded as one of the brightest witches to ever live. There were also rumors surrounding her. Many people thought her unmatched intelligence was really brought about by a diadem she wore. No one knows if that was the truth or not because the diadem is lost. It has been for centuries. Scores of Ravenclaw students have sought it out, but it was never discovered."

"A diadem? What is that?"

Penelope laughed. "You are such a male, Ron Weasley. A diadem is a crown—a very small crown that resembles a tiara more than a fully-fledged royal headpiece."

Harry had the sneaking suspicion Penelope's story would prove beneficial. "Do you have a picture of this diadem?"

"As a matter of fact, I think I do. Hang on, I'll be right back." Penelope retreated from the room, leaving the two of them alone.

"What do you think?" Harry asked.

"I think we still don't have a bloody clue. She said the thing was lost. It has been for hundreds of years."

"Maybe he has it?"

Ron was not convinced. "Maybe we should try something else. This looks like a dead end to me."

"I'm sorry, this is the only picture I have," Penelope said as she returned to her seat. "It's Rowena Ravenclaw's Chocolate Frog Card."

She handed it to Harry who studied the picture carefully. He had seen the diadem before. He just could not remember where. "Are you are sure this crown thing has been lost for centuries?"

"There isn't a trace of it," she replied matter-of-factly.

"I have seen this before," he admitted, "just last year, in fact. Ron, do you remember when Ginny and I hid Professor Snape's old Potions book in the Room of Requirement?"

"Vaguely. What does a Potions book have to do with this?"

"The book is meaningless, it's the room. I saw something that looked just like that while I was there."

Penelope shook her head. "That's impossible. It can't be at Hogwarts. The castle was searched for it - repeatedly."

Harry stood from the table and started pacing. "I saw something in there that looked just like this. I paid it no mind because it looked like a ruddy tarnished hairpiece to me. I remember the inscription written on it and everything. I was drawn to it because it was damned Horcrux!"

"What's a Horcrux?"

"You don't want to know, believe me," Ron told her. "It isn't a good thing; we'll just leave it at that."

Harry stopped in the middle of the floor and looked to his friend. "I'm positive, Ron. This diadem is a Horcrux and it is at Hogwarts."

"Then I guess we're going to Hogwarts," Ron said as he stood to join Harry. Just before he made it to Harry's side, Ron stopped dead in his tracks as he clutched the pocket of his jeans.

Harry looked at Ron quizzically. "What is it?"

Ron fished around in his pockets, brining the coins out to inspect them. Their recipient coin was pulsating and growing hotter with each passing second. "Bloody hell!" Ron swore as he let the coin fall to the kitchen floor. "It keeps getting hotter. Something isn't right, Harry. She's activating it over and over. We've got to go now."

Ron bent down to get a closer look at the coin. It was starting to glow faintly, indicating that it was definitely hot to the touch. "Penelope, do you have a cloth or something we can wrap this up in?"

Penelope went to a drawer, retrieving a neatly folded tea towel from its place, tossing it to him.

Harry turned to Penelope while Ron collected their scalding Galleon. "Thank you. We would still be wandering in the dark had it not been for you."

"All I ask is for you to be safe please, both of you. Too many people have died as a result of this madness. Don't get yourselves added to the list."

"The same to you," Ron said. "Remember, you didn't see us."

"Your secret is safe with me, so don't worry about that. Now get out of here."

The boys nodded one last time before they hooked arms and Disapparated.

*****

Something was pulling him out of unconsciousness, though Severus couldn't quite tell what it was given his debilitated state. If he could have likened the current sensation afflicting him to anything familiar, he would have said that awkward stage between sleep and alertness. He was aware of his body, but nothing else. He wished he could be conscious of anything but his body, as he felt like the life had been nearly ripped from him. He ached horribly and was weaker than he ever remembered being in his entire life. Struggling to bring his head above the murkiness plaguing his senses, Severus started to move. Halfway through his miserable attempt, he felt the caress of a warm hand brush the hair from his face. This same hand traveled down his face and rested on his chest, directly over his pulsing heart. It lingered there a moment, tapping out the beats in perfect rhythm, before returning to his forehead, where it stayed. Then, as if this unknown person knew his needs, a soft voice started to speak to him, tenderly coaxing him out of the darkness. He listened, desperately trying to follow the voice to wherever it was leading him. It worked.

Severus began to open his eyes. There was hardly any light, but just enough to make out the blurry form of the person who cradled his head in their lap. He blinked with purpose until he could see as well as the dim light would permit. It was Hermione and she was smiling at him with tears in her eyes. He brought his hand to her cheek to brush a tear away, but she pushed his hand back down.

"Shhhh," she said as she ran a hand through his hair, "please don't move."

Severus didn't argue with her. He lay perfectly still, trying to discern where they were. He had never seen the room they were in before. There were no windows and it was so cold that he could see his breath as it condensed in the air. Apart from a small oil lamp that hung on the wall, there was nothing in the room. Come to think of it, he couldn't even make out a door.

"I thought I'd lost you. As soon as I came to, I saw you," she choked out. "You were hardly breathing. I…I thought you had been cursed until I noticed all the blood. "

All of the memories of the ambush came rushing back to him. He remembered fighting with Dolohov. He remembered being stabbed by his broken wand and he remembered the sight of Lucius Malfoy standing over him. He looked down at his leg, noticing some sort of black cloth wrapped tightly around it. It was sleeve to her black jumper. Before he could ask her anything, Hermione started to explain.

"I managed to get the wand out before too much magic corrupted your system. You're lucky," she said, smiling sweetly. "That wand had a Dragon Heartstring for a core. A core of such capricious nature would have poisoned you in a matter of hours. You couldn't have stood that much raw magic."

Severus tried to move once more and, just as before, Hermione stopped him. "Really, don't move. I didn't think I would ever get the bleeding to stop. If it starts again, I don't know how long you'll stay awake. You lost a lot, so please, just lie still."

So there they were, Hermione thought. Captured and, as far as she was concerned, utterly fucked unless they could come up with a plan to escape. She tried her best to keep those thoughts from Snape. She didn't want to talk about it, but knew she had to bring it up because their time was undoubtedly running short the longer they stayed in the room. "I have no idea where we are."

Snape shook his head slightly. "I have never seen this room before. I don't know where they have taken us. "

"They took everything I had on me—my wand, the D.A Galleons, everything! We couldn't call for help even if we wanted too."

Severus released a ragged breath that sent a ripple of pain from his chest all the way to his feet. "I should have killed him when I had the chance! I'm such a bloody fool. I've put you in the hands of someone who would do it to you without thinking another thought. "

Hermione had feared Severus would be eaten alive by the guilt of allowing the two of them to get placed in such a position. He had made a grave mistake in giving the Death Eater a chance to walk away with his life, but she could understand his reservations of taking another's life—even if that life belonged to someone as despicable as Antonin Dolohov. "You are not a fool."

"Yes I am! You deserve an explanation. Hermione, there is something you should know about me. Something I must tell you concerning the things that transpired in my past. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

"I don't care about what you did or didn't do. None of that matters now." She placed both of her hands on the side of his face, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "I know who the real Severus Snape is. The Severus Snape who joined the Dark Lord years ago no longer exists. The Severus Snape I see right now is one of the bravest men I know. You have knowingly put yourself in danger for me more times than I can count. You are the furthest thing from a Death Eater, and nothing you can tell me will make me think any less of you."

Severus said nothing as he took in all of the sincerity radiating off the young woman holding his head in her lap. He wouldn't be satisfied until she knew who he had been because his past had shaped him into the man he was today. As Antonin pointed out during their altercation, Hermione had no idea of the demons of his past. Severus also knew that now was not the time to discuss such things, especially when they were being held captive.

"How long have we been here?" he finally asked.

"A while. I don't know for sure, but I tried to mend your leg about an hour or so ago. I don't know how long I was out. Why do you think they are just holding us here? Why not get right down to it?"

"It's all part of the game. There's nothing worse than waiting—waiting and not knowing what'll happen to you, or when it will happen. It's all psychological. Your own mind can be crueler than any captor."

"Well, I hate to admit it," she laughed nervously, trying to mask her fear, "but it is an effective strategy."

He looked up at her, noticing she was trying with all of her might to keep it together. She was right, it was an effective tactic and he hated himself for allowing her to be put in such a situation. "I have failed you."

"What?"

"I said 'I have failed you'."

"Don't talk like that," she said harshly. "I need you to be there for me, do you understand? You are the only reason I am even able to make a coherent thought. I am terrified out of my wits, and you have to keep me anchored. I can't do this if you give up on me."

"Don't twist my words," he said, staring into her eyes.

"You said it, not me."

"I said I failed you, I never said I was giving up on you."

"Those two phrases sound very similar to me, Severus Snape, and I don't want to hear anything of the sort rolling off your tongue again." She looked away from him, for fear of losing her bearings.

"Hermione." She shook her head furiously, trying to block him out. The tears had started falling freely now. "Hermione, look at me," Severus said again, only this time he brought a hand to her cheek. Using a nearby wall for support, he forced himself to sit up so that he could look into her eyes. "I swear to you, if it is the last thing I do, I will make sure you walk away from this. You will walk away from this hell, do you understand me?"

She shut her eyes tightly, nuzzling into his hand. She allowed her lips to brush his palm. At first he thought it had been a mistake, until she did it again.

"No, not here. Not like this," he whispered.

She brought her index finger to his lips to silence him and he obeyed. Severus remained silent even as Hermione brought one leg over his lap and he did not protest as she forcefully pressed her lips into his. A wave of emotion flooded over him. He was conflicted. On the one hand, he knew he should stop her and that this sort of relationship wasn't good for either of them. On the other hand, his instincts told him to hold her tightly and reciprocate her gesture of affection. With all the two of them had been through, and perhaps because he was anxious for something good to counterbalance the excruciating pain he was enduring, his instincts won out. He grabbed Hermione's waist and pulled her closer to him. They remained locked in the embrace for what seemed to be both forever and only an instant.

It was not the first time Hermione had been kissed, but it was by far the most significant. She had never felt about anyone the way she felt about Severus. At a whirlwind pace, he had transformed from her surly Potions master into a trusted companion, a dear friend, and, finally, something she didn't quite understand but could not stop thinking about. She felt safer in his embrace than inside the stone walls of Hogwarts or even in her bedroom at her parents' home as a child. She did her best to pour the totality of her feelings for him into her kiss, trying to let him know how much she needed him.

The sound of stone rubbing against stone interrupted them. They looked to the wall behind them to see the frame of a door appearing in the wall. Knowing time was short, he tangled his hands in her hair, brining her forehead to his. "Remember what I told you. Block and your mind will be fortified. They will learn nothing."

"I promise."

"No matter what you see, no matter what they do, tell them nothing, understand?"

"But…I—"

Severus brought his lips to hers one final time. He would have liked to have thought it was an attempt to keep her from speaking, but he knew that was not the truth. He wanted to feel her lips pressed to his because, deep down, he knew this would most likely be the last time he would get the chance to experience such a feeling again. He ended the kiss almost as soon as it began and pushed her off of him. It was just in time.

Coming through the newly formed hole in the wall were three Death Eaters. Bellatrix bounced into the room first, her wild eyes settling on Hermione. The lumpy Peter Pettigrew was close behind and already had his wand trained on Severus. An ill-looking Antonin Dolohov flanked him on his left. His expression frightened Hermione most of all. His face had lost all of its color, most likely from his duel with Snape, and still had the same arrogance it displayed not hours before. The most frightening thing was the look in his eye. He was thirsty for revenge and if he had anything to do with it, he would be collecting on it.

"How's that leg of yours, Snape?" he asked casually, picking at his fingernails. Bellatrix and Peter roared with laughter as Severus remained collected. "Shame I lost my wand, but I'd do it again to see you writhing on the ground like some whipped dog." Dolohov pulled a wand from his sleeve and studied it with contempt. "This piece of fodder will do, but it isn't as powerful as the one I had before. It's funny; I always used to think it was just you, not your wand."

"Perhaps it doesn't understand you, Dolohov. You see, the core within my wand prefers to be handled by someone with finesse. You wield it like some child's plaything, never truly appreciating the power within."

Before Severus had time to prepare himself, Dolohov sent a yellow bolt of magic from the tip of the wand. The Cruciatus Curse hit him squarely in the chest and began to eat him alive. He collapsed forward, completely overcome by severely violent tremors. His cries of agony bounced off the walls, causing Hermione's ears to ring. She tried to bring him upright, tried to give him some sort of relief, but it was useless. She couldn't get him to budge.

Pleading was the only thing she could do. Antonin didn't stop. If anything, the Death Eater forced more magic behind the curse. Suddenly Snape's screams stopped. Hermione looked to him, fearing the worst. His eyes were closed, but he still continued to shake as the curse wracked his body. He was slipping under the surface.

"Antonin, you stupid fuck!" It was Bellatrix's piercing voice that slashed through the air. She had ended the curse. "We can't kill him, not yet. The Dark Lord wants him alive!"

"Piss off Bella. I want my piece of the bastard first." Dolohov raised Severus's wand toward him once more, preparing to unleash more of the hellish fury.

Bellatrix swung her hand around, cracking Antonin in the side of the head with the hilt of her wand. Dolohov released a string of swear words as he tentatively rubbed the side of his face. He looked up to see the Dark witch's wand locked on him. "I'll kill you, Dolohov, so help me I will! If he dies before the Dark Lord gets his hands on him, we'll be just as dead. Bring him. The rat will stay with the Mudblood."

Antonin glared at Bellatrix one final time before he crossed the distance between himself and Severus, who lay motionless on the floor. Dolohov dragged Snape to his feet, roughly yanking him out of Hermione's grasp. Hermione got to her feet in an attempt to help only to be struck in the face. The back of Pettigrew's silver hand knocked her senseless. She stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. Just as she managed to collect herself, she could see that Snape had been taken through the archway, and that the archway was now starting to disappear. She jumped to her feet and ran toward the opening.

Pettigrew laughed at her when she hit the solid stone of the wall instead of going through it. Hermione pounded away at the stone with her fists until her hands they started to bleed from all of the scrapes and scratches. The wall didn't budge—there was no sign of the archway or any way in or out. She collapsed to the floor, burying her face in her bloodied hands. It was hopeless now.

When Hermione was finally able to stifle her sobs and somewhat regain her composure, she looked around the room, desperately hoping to find some way to escape or at least call for help. If only the Galleons hadn't been confiscated, she could contact Harry and Ron. On the opposite side of the room, Wormtail was sitting hunched in a corner, undoubtedly having been given the task of guarding her. Never was a more fitting nickname bestowed on an individual, Hermione thought, taking in his rodent-like features. His days as Scabbers had obviously had a lasting effect on him, to the point that, even in his natural form, he resembled a rat as much as he did a human.

Suddenly, Wormtail became aware of Hermione's gaze. "What are you looking at, Mudblood?"

Hermione felt an idea form abruptly. "Nothing, I was just wondering what became of my possessions."

Wormtail held her wand in his silver hand and held the Galleons out in his mousy one. "You mean these? The Dark Lord says I can keep them as long as I keep you from escaping. Easiest two Galleons I ever made."

"Oh they're not real. They're jokes from Zonko's. You can get them to talk to you if you know how." Hermione could tell she had piqued his curiosity. "Just touch your wand to each of them and think of something to say."

Pettigrew looked skeptical, but could not resist the urge to try. He touched his wand to the Galleons. When nothing happened, he tried again and again to no avail. "They're not working."

"Oh well," Hermione shrugged, trying to mask her satisfaction. "They must be broken."

*****

Snape's mind was still muddled from Dolohov's attack. He was trying to bring himself out of it enough to get a good look at where he was. He was coherent enough to know he was being dragged down a long but narrow corridor. He and his captors passed a window, which provided evidence that he and Hermione were not being held underground, but were at least two stories up. It would be easier to escape. As they came around a corner, he could see a set of stairs to his left that went down. That put them on the highest floor, he reasoned. Looking through his lank hair, he could see they were approaching their destination. Bellatrix's grating voice confirmed his suspicion.

"My Lord, we have brought Snape to you as you requested," Bellatrix said, bowing to Voldemort's turned form.

Antonin thrust Snape forward into the room. Had it not been for a column supporting the ceiling, Severus would have fallen flat on his face. He managed to correct himself enough to let go of the column. His leg screamed in protest, but he ignored it. Any sign of weakness in front of the Dark Lord was a tool he could use against you.

Voldemort swiveled in a fluid motion to face his Death Eaters and the man who betrayed his trust. "Ah, Severus. It's good to see you. You are very slippery, my friend. I was beginning to fear we would never meet face to face." The Dark Lord looked at the man who was barely holding himself up. It would only be too easy. "Leave us, both of you."

Bellatrix stepped forward, a look of disbelief taking hold of her sharp features. "My Lord?"

"I said leave us, Bella." The Dark Lord's tone was ominous and threatening. The two Death Eaters standing in the door bowed and backed out of the room immediately, leaving Voldemort and Severus by themselves.

The Dark Lord walked around a very ornately designed chair, and sat down facing Severus. "It disappoints me greatly to do this. You had such potential and you squandered it. You see, I cannot allow such disloyalty to go unpunished."

"Then get on with it." Snape managed to spit out rather gruffly.

"I will. I most certainly will give you what you deserve for such treachery but first let's have a little chat, you and I." Voldemort waved his wand and a rickety, wooden chair appeared out of thin air directly behind Snape. "Sit down, Severus."

Severus said nothing as he stood his ground. He took a look around the room, desperately trying to see if there was anything he could use to prolong the inevitable. The room was mostly empty except for a rather large fireplace along the back wall, a large table with several seats around it and two small bookcases. As his eyes skimmed the book shelves, something glistening in the fire light caught his eye. There on the top shelf, almost hidden by a stack of moldy, tattered books was a golden goblet—the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. He realized instantly that he and Hermione had been taken to the Riddle House.

In the midst of his scrutiny of the room, Severus did not hear when the Dark Lord made an agitated noise and waved his hand toward him. A strong squall of wind came from nowhere and pushed Severus into the chair. Taken aback by the sudden shove, Severus turned his gaze to the Dark wizard. The Dark Lord frowned slightly, "Must you be so mulish, Severus?"

"Forgive me," Severus said, his words coming out a bit more stringently that he had intended.

The Dark Lord was quite for some time, never taking his eyes off Snape. Severus would have likened Voldemort's gaze to that of a predatory animal sizing up its unsuspecting prey. The Dark Lord was analyzing him from every angle, as if to determine the strongest tactic to us to strike against him. There was hunger, loathing, and conceit in his gaze. "I want to you imagine, if you will, Severus, a golden field full of wheat. This field is ready for reaping; the stalks are heavy with grain, nearly bending to the ground from such a burden. When the time comes and the harvesting is carried out, the reaper must separate the grain from the chaff. He must extract what is valuable from what is worthless. Which would he keep, Severus?"

Severus regarded the Dark wizard seated before him with extreme caution. He hadn't expected this from him and Severus wasn't entirely sure of where this particular conversation was going. Refusing to answer the Dark Lord's question might get him killed before he could do anything that might help his and Hermione's situation. Indulging him was really the only option he had, as it would buy him some much needed time to figure out what to do.

"The grain," Severus responded finally.

"And why would he keep the grain?"

"Because it has value. It has use."

"Precisely! The reaper would choose what is of higher quality over the lower quality. He would do away with the waste and uphold what is worth saving. It makes sense, does it not?"

Severus said nothing.

"You see, here is where you and I have a differing opinion. Unlike you, I have a similar philosophy relating to that of the wheat and the chaff—when it comes to what I am trying to achieve. There are only two types of people in this world; those who have the gift of magic and those who do not. There is the wheat and there is the chaff of human kind. I ask you, Severus, which are you?"

"Who are you to decide who is worthy?" Severus regretted that little outburst as soon as it left his lips.

"Who am I to decide?" The Dark Lord flicked his wand in Severus's direction causing the chair to vanish from beneath him. "I am the only one to decide, you ill-bred fool! All of you are beneath me! I am the reaper!"

*****

When Harry and Ron Apparated to the sitting room of the safe house, they were greeted by an eerie silence. There was no sign of Hermione or Snape, no response when the boys called for them.

"Go check the cellar; I'll get the bedrooms down the hall," Harry said, scratching his head. Ron nodded and took off toward the basement. A few moments later, the two of them met in the kitchen, even more confused than when they first arrived.

"There is no sign of them anywhere downstairs."

"I found this in Hermione's room." Harry held out Hermione's purple bag, showing it to his red-haired friend. "They have to be here. She takes it with her everywhere."

"I'm telling you, they are not here, Harry."

"I don't get it. We were supposed to come back to the house if the coins were activated. Do you think they activated them on accident?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "You know how the coins work. A wand has to touch them. They were activated by somebody—and more than once."

Harry walked over to the kitchen window, running a hand through his dark hair. "Like you said, they're not here. I don't know wh—" Suddenly, he went very still and very quite as his gaze traveled over the snow covered ground that lay beyond the window.

The silence didn't go unnoticed by Ron. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what caused the abrupt change in Harry's demeanor. "What is it?"

"Look." Harry said, pointing out the window toward the backyard.

"Bloody hell. What happened out there, you reckon? "

Harry didn't hear him, as he was already outside before Ron made it over to the window. He stepped over the debris of the fallen outbuilding and the splintered trees. It looked like a war zone. Footprints covered the ground, making it hard to tell how many people were involved. A large dark spot in the snow, some fifteen feet from the backdoor, caught his attention. He started toward it apprehensively.

Ron, having finally made it outside, noticed the spot on the ground at the same moment. "Is that… is that blood?"

Harry reached down and picked up a handful of the crimson snow. He brought it cautiously to his nose. The foul metallic smell of blood flooded his senses causing him to retch. "Give me the coins," he choked out, throwing the ruined snow back to the ground.

"Harry, was that blood?"

"Yes, it's blood! We have to find them."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked, hurriedly digging in his trouser pockets for the Galleons.

"I'm going to try to send a message. I don't know if it will work, but we need to try something."

Harry took the coins from Ron, and headed back for the kitchen. "While we were at Hogwarts, you remember how the coins used to work? I was able to change the numbers on the outside rim of my coin to show the date and time of the next D.A. meeting. I might be able to get the numbers to change to letters."

"You think you can do that? Hermione would have mentioned it if we could use letters. We might have to—"

"It's all we've got," Harry said placing the coin on the kitchen table. "It has to work."

Harry and Ron waiting with baited breathe as they activated their master coin. Harry concentrated, desperately trying to get the words, "Where are you," to appear on the coin. Nothing. The Galleons weren't charmed to recognize letters.

"Damn it! This isn't working," Harry yelled, chucking the Galleon at the wall.

"Do you think You-Know-Who has them? I mean who else would come here and make a mess of the place and leave a puddle of blood lying on the ground. It has to be him, Harry."

"This is a safe house. The Dark Lord couldn't possibly know about. Only the four of us know and we haven't said anything to anyone."

"Look in his head. See if he has them."

"That would never work. He blocks me."

"But you can still feel him, right? You can still feel what he feels—emotions and such can't you?

Harry started to pace. "It's not that easy, Ron. The connection we share is fickle. He only let's me in when he wants me in, when it would benefit him in some way. You remember what happened fifth year when he showed me the lies about Sirius."

"Listen, you have to try. Don't Occlude. Let him in if that's what it takes. I know you don't like the thoughts of the bastard being in your head but that's the only option we have. Harry, the longer we wait, the less likely it becomes that we find them before it's not too late."

"Alright, just give me a second." Harry sat down and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to travel to its link. Suddenly, his scar roared to life, making him shake with discomfort. The Dark Lord was irate; his attention was focused on someone—someone he was trying to break. Harry poured all of his energy into trying to see what the Dark Lord was seeing. Through a haze Harry could see a lean figure writhing on the floor. Immediately, Harry recognized the body as belonging to his Potions professor. The Dark Lord had Snape, which meant he also had Hermione.

"Oh God… I see him. The Dark Lord has Professor Snape. He's trying to kill him," he said in a low, trembling whisper.

"Where, Harry? Where are they?"

Harry focused on the image the Dark Lord was seeing, trying to find something that would give him a clue as to where he was. The room looked familiar but he couldn't remember where he had seen it before. Harry's mind started racing. The room looked to belong to an old house. The furnishings in the room were stark, but surprisingly Muggle. Where could the Dark Lord be that would have Muggle things lying all over the place? Harry looked around the room once more, this time noticing a long hall to Lord Voldemort's left. At the end of the hall was a narrow staircase that led downstairs. Harry subconsciously placed a giant, slithering snake coming up the stairwell, heading toward the room where the Dark Lord was torturing Snape. There was no snake, of course, as it was just Harry's mind completing his memory of the room.

Harry's eyes flew open, ending the connection between the Dark Lord's mind and his own. "I know where they are! Come on, we have to hurry!"

* * *

Author's Notes: As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. I thank each of you for allowing me the opportunity to share this madness. The people of this ship are fantastic!


	22. The Devil's Den

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 21**

The Devil's Den

Harry was not completely confident in his ability to get himself and Ron where they needed to be. Much to his relief, he felt solid ground under his feet within a matter of seconds. He waited several moments before opening his eyes, as he was not sure he was ready to see the sight waiting beyond his closed eyelids. When he finally opened his eyes, he found his surroundings to be just as he remembered it. It was as if he had stepped back in time, except there were no Death Eaters, no Lord Voldemort, and no cold, lifeless body of Cedric Diggory lying on the ground in front of him. He had returned to the graveyard of Little Hangleton in his dreams more nights than he cared to recall, but standing in the flesh in the setting of his reoccurring nightmare was a little more than unsettling.

"Harry, you alright? You look a bit peaked."

Harry blinked heavily, trying to steady himself. "I'm fine. The Disapparition made me queasy is all."

Leaving Harry to his own devices, a pale light erupted from the tip of Ron's wand as he surveyed their surroundings. Through the darkness, there was very little to see. Before him, littering the large expanse of land, were several gravestones, most of which were leaning considerably in various directions. Ron approached the one nearest him; curiosity winning the battle between moving and keeping his feet planted firmly where they hit after Apparating. The grave marker in question was cracked beyond repair, and the years of ceaseless English weather had eroded the etchings making the names and dates indecipherable. "Where is this place?"

"Little Hangleton," Harry said finally. "This is where Cedric and I were taken fourth year. This is where You-Know-Who came back."

Ron looked around, obviously confused. "Why did you bring us here?"

"Because we're close to his house, but not too close as to get spotted."

"How do you know the house is close?"

Harry thought for a moment. "I just know. I've seen the Riddle House before. I've been in Voldemort's mind and I saw it in the Penseive…or maybe it was a dream, I can't quite remember right now. That's not the point, Ron. Listen, I know we're close. You're just going to have to trust me unless you have a better plan."

Ron shook his head. "I've got nothing, mate. Just lead the way. I'll be right behind you."

Harry began walking down a narrow path that led over a hill. Once the boys were atop the hill, they could clearly see the town of Little Hangleton. The Riddle House was on the opposite side of the valley, standing ominously amongst the shadows. Surrounded by a low lying stone wall, the mansion-style home was nearly four stories tall and, from what they could discern, in terrible shape. The front of the house had been taken over by a blanket of deadened ivy. The windows of the house that had not been obscured by the flora had either been boarded up or were missing glass panes or shutters. Had it not been for the snake-like wisps of smoke emanating from the partially broken chimneys, they would have suspected it to have been deserted. "That's it. I'm positive. Let's go."

Harry started down the hill and toward the house but was stopped by Ron's hand on his shoulder. "Wait a second. Are we just going to walk in there? Don't you think the Dark Lord will have someone guarding the door?"

"If he does, then we'll take care of them when we get there." Harry shrugged Ron's hand from his shoulder and began to creep along the rock wall leading to the Riddle House.

"Harry," Ron whispered. If Harry heard him, he was doing a fine job pretending that he didn't. Desperate, Ron picked up a pebble and chucked it toward Harry. The pebble connected with the back of Harry's head, causing him to turn around and shoot Ron an angry look. Within a moment, however, Harry was continuing on his course. Ron picked up another stone and hurled it at his friend. Again, it hit him squarely in the back of the head. Harry angrily waved his hand behind his back, but he kept moving. Ron's agitated whisper finally cut through the silence. "Harry, stop!"

Harry froze in place behind the stone wall. He whipped around with a scowl on his face. "Do you want them to die? We don't have time to sit here and argue about this! If you don't want to go, stay behind. I'm not going to sit here and do nothing."

"I'm not letting you walk straight into You-Know-Who's hands. Not again. We have to come up with some sort of plan—"

"Like what?" Harry hissed. "We don't exactly have a lot at our disposal, Ron."

"I don't know, but there has to be something better than just walking up and ringing the doorbell."

Harry turned around and started to inch himself toward the edge of the lawn surrounding the Riddle House. "We don't have time for this. The longer we sit here, the worse it becomes for Hermione and Snape."

Ron followed apprehensively, still trying to determine a way to convince Harry of the madness of his plan. "Maybe we can go to Shell Cottage to get Mum and Dad. The Order members—"

Harry twisted around swiftly causing Ron to shy away at his proximity. "No! No one else is going to put themselves in danger for this."

Grabbing him firmly by the shoulders, Ron pushed Harry hard into the wall. "When will you see you can't do this by yourself? You're not alone, Harry! If you don't start acting like you have a brain in that noggin of yours, I'll hex you still and figure out something myself." Ron sat back against the wall with a huff, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. "I've half a mind to turn you into a house-elf, that way you'll have no choice but to think when you're told."

Harry sat up abruptly, having just been struck with a particularly profound thought. "What did you just say?"

"I said too bad you're not a house-elf," Ron snapped. "I could just order you to think before you act."

"Ron, you're a genius."

"I..er…what?"

"House-elves!"

"Harry…we don't have any house-elves."

"I do! I can call Kreacher and he can go get Dobby and they can help us get inside."

Ron looked surprised at his friend's suggestion. "I dunno, Harry. I mean, they're not the most graceful of creatures. They'd probably make loads of racket and give us away."

"Ron, that's brilliant!"

Ron looked more confused than ever. "Oh no! You only say that when I give you some crazy idea."

"We get the house-elves to get inside the house and cause a diversion, then we get in and find Hermione and Snape."

"But I thought you and Hermione decided it was too risky to summon Kreacher, you know, with that Death Eater being left at Grimmauld Place and all."

"What's the worst that could happen? We're already here at the Death Eaters' headquarters. One or two more won't make much difference. Besides, we're out of options. Sure it's risky, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Ron sighed in frustration. "Alright, go ahead."

"I'm not really sure how to do this, to be honest," Harry admitted. "Um…Kreacher! Come here, I need you!"

Much to Harry's surprise, Kreacher appeared before him within seconds. He bowed deeply in front of Harry. "Master called for Kreacher?"

"Yes, Kreacher. Nice to see you. Do you know where Dobby is by any chance?"

"Kreacher knows. Kreacher sees Dobby every day at Hogwarts."

Harry looked mildly surprised. "Hogwarts? You've been staying at Hogwarts?"

"Yes. When Master left the Death Eater at Kreacher's home, Kreacher had to get away. Kreacher had nowhere else to go."

"I'm sorry about that, Kreacher. We didn't mean to bring him. Anyway, I need you to get Dobby and come back here immediately."

Kreacher bowed once more. "As Master wishes." With that, he disappeared. It was less than a minute before Kreacher returned with Dobby at his side.

"Harry Potter! Dobby is so glad to see you! No one knew where Harry Potter was. Some were saying that Harry Potter was dead, but Dobby knew better! Dobby knew that Harry Potter could not be dead, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could not kill Harry Potter!"

"Dobby, I'm glad to see you too, but you need to keep quiet. Listen, I need the two of you to do something for me, but it could be dangerous."

"Dobby does not care if it is dangerous. Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter."

"Kreacher has no choice," muttered a bitter voice.

"Well, good," Harry said. "Here's the plan. You two will go into the house and find out where Hermione and Professor Snape are being kept. Also, we need to know how many Death Eaters are inside. And most importantly, whatever you do, don't be seen. Understand?" Both of the elves nodded in agreement and Kreacher bowed once more before they disappeared.

Harry and Ron waited for what was probably ten minutes but felt like an hour. Finally, the elves reappeared in the cemetery. Harry was relieved to see them both back unharmed, but was anxious to hear what the elves had found out. "Well," he insisted, "did you see them?"

Dobby spoke up first. "Yes, Harry Potter, Dobby did see Harry Potter's friend Hermione Granger. Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter, but your Hermione Granger was being held captive by a man who was rather fat and rather resembled a rat."

"Wormtail," Harry seethed. "What about Professor Snape?"

Kreacher's voice cracked from behind Harry, "Kreacher saw him, master. He was lying on the floor in a big room. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named stands over him."

"Harry Potter must not go in there," Dobby interrupted. "It is much too dangerous. Dark wizards roam the halls – over a dozen. It is not safe."

"That's where the two of you come in. I'm sorry to ask you this, but I need you two to go inside and cause a diversion to draw most of the Death Eaters away from where Hermione and Snape are being held. After that, Ron and I will come in and hopefully be able to get to where they are without too much resistance."

Dobby and Kreacher both bowed ceremonially and headed toward the Riddle House, Harry and Ron following closely behind. When they arrived at the door, Dobby turned to Harry. "Dobby and Kreacher will do our best to clear the way. Harry Potter's friends are on the fourth floor. Dobby and Kreacher will try to lead the others to the kitchen."

"Two minutes, remember. You two have two minutes and we're coming in. Be careful, please. I don't want anything to happen to the two of you." An awkward silence permeated the quartet before Harry quietly cleared his throat. "Well, we don't have time to waste. Better go on."

The house-elves bowed once more and disappeared. Unseen by Harry and Ron, they reappeared in the hallway near the entrance to the kitchen. Their presence did not go unnoticed by the Death Eater who leaned lazily against the counter.

Selwyn stood up and walked to the doorway to investigate the ruckus. Upon seeing the two creatures he grew suspicious. "You there, elf," he demanded in a rough voice, "what'd you think you're doing here? Who do you belong to?"

Dobby narrowed his giant green eyes in disgust. "Dobby belongs to no one!" he insisted, shaking his spindly finger at the Death Eater. "Dobby is a free elf!"

Dobby vanished right before Selwyn's eyes only to pop back into existence atop his scrawny shoulders. The dark wizard started to flail around wildly to dislodge the elf. Meanwhile, Kreacher, in an effort to make as much noise and attract as much attention as possible, retrieved a pot from the cupboard and began bashing the Death Eater's knees and shins. One of the blows struck especially hard, sending Selwyn crashing to his knees. Kreacher seized the opportunity to deliver a wallop to his face, rendering him unconscious. The two elves moved quickly to relieve the incapacitated Death Eater of his wand and stashed him in a nearby broom cupboard before knocking more pots and pans from the cupboards to cause a bigger commotion.

In a matter of seconds, the kitchen was filled with close to a half dozen Death Eaters that immediately drew their wands on the pair of house-elves. Suddenly, a voice came from the back of the group. "Dobby?" Draco Malfoy pushed his way to the front. "What are you doing here, you little shit?"

"Dobby does not have to answer Draco Malfoy's questions anymore! Draco Malfoy is no longer Dobby's master!"

"Well, if you're here, that can only mean one thing… Harry Potter isn't far behind." At Draco's revelation, most of the crowd turned and headed for the door, which was promptly slammed in their faces.

"Dobby will not allow Draco Malfoy and his friends to reach Harry Potter!" Dobby snapped his fingers and, in an instant, every object in the kitchen began to move about as if it had a mind of its own. The Death Eaters suddenly found themselves under attack by an army of cookware and cutlery. Dobby and Kreacher quickly vanished and reappeared on the other side of the closed kitchen door. The pair of elves immediately set about moving all manner of furniture they could find in front of the door to form a barricade, as they were doing so, Harry and Ron entered the Riddle House through the front door.

"Harry Potter must hurry," Dobby said tossing Selwyn's wand to Harry. "Dobby does not know how long he will be able to keep them inside! Up the stairs! They are on the top floor!"

Harry and Ron moved up the staircase as stealthily as possible in case there were any Death Eaters who had not been drawn to the kitchen by the house-elves' diversion. As they reached the top of the stairs, they saw that the door to the room where Voldemort was undoubtedly holding Hermione and Snape was being guarded by Nicola Yaxley, the same Death Eater who had followed them from the Ministry of Magic to Grimmauld Place. Harry put a finger to his lips, bidding Ron to remain silent. Harry slowly raised his wand and pointed it in Yaxley's direction. "Petrificus Totalus." The Dark wizard fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Ron took to being the lookout while Harry carefully peeked through the keyhole of the door, only to be horrified by what he saw. Snape was lying on the floor motionless, clearly having been subjected to a great deal of physical abuse. Harry's eyes quickly darted about the room, frantically trying to determine who else was in there. Lucius Malfoy, Rowle, and Dolohov were standing in the far corner of the room, casually observing the carnage. Bellatrix was off to herself, sitting in a chair near the fireplace. Amycus Carrow was leaning against the mantle, staring into the flames. Voldemort himself stood in the center of the room, Wormtail by his side and Hermione on her knees in front of him screaming in agony, the obvious victim of the Cruciatus Curse. The situation and the danger they were in was suddenly very apparent. As much as he wanted to barge in and end it all, Harry knew all of their efforts would have been for nothing. He watched and waited for the time to make his presence known.

On the other side of the door, Hermione's screams ceased, only to be replaced by a silent flood of tears. Harry expected her to fall to the floor, but she remained upright, essentially unmoving. It was then Harry realized she had been hit with some sort of spell that prevented her from moving so much as an inch. It was something he had never seen before.

"You are trying my patience, girl!" Voldemort spat impatiently.

"I'll never tell you anything," Hermione whispered through her tears. "I'd rather die than betray my friends."

"I know you do not fear death. Perhaps I have been going about this the wrong way." Voldemort spun around and walked toward Snape. Using his bare foot to move Severus's head in Hermione's direction, the Dark Lord turned back to face her with a wicked smile across his face. "Your life means little to you. Let us see how you much you value the life of another."

With a flick of Voldemort's wand, Severus was yanked into the air by his ankles. The look on Hermione's face told the Dark Lord everything he needed to know. "Interesting," he said as he cocked his head to the side quizzically. Without taking his eyes of Hermione, he waved his hand lazily in Snape's direction once more. Severus tumbled back to the floor with an agonized groan. Hermione closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the sight of fresh blood oozing from his pant leg. Her escape was short lived as she was struck once more with the Cruciatus Curse. The Unforgivable Curse ended almost as soon as it began.

"You will watch this," the Dark Lord warned, yanking Hermione's head back by her hair. "You will watch him die by your hand!"

Before Hermione had time to process what was happening, Snape was once again in the air. He was sent crashing into the book case in front of her. He dropped to the floor like a limp rag as the massive unit of shelves toppled down over him. "This will end when you allow it, though it appears your resolve may outlast your companion's will to live."

This time, Snape was dragged from under the bookshelf before he hit the ceiling of the room with a loud bang. Hermione shrieked wildly. Voldemort positioned Severus directly above her, giving Hermione a full view of the misery controlling his features.

"Please," she begged, though she was not speaking to the Dark Lord. "Please, forgive me."

At her admission—as if Severus knew what she was about to do—he slowly opened his eyes to look straight at her. Severus moved his mouth as if to speak, but he could not manage to say a single word. Instead, a single tear fell from the corner of his eye. It landed on her cheek before rolling down the side of her face and dropping silently to the floor.

Voldemort chuckled at their display. "You can end his torment, my dear girl," he said mockingly. "Tell me where Harry Potter is hiding."

Hermione turned her gaze from the Dark Lord back to Severus. The anger and pain she found in his eyes would be something she was sure she would never forget. She had seen so much more than she wanted to, but she could not force herself to look away from him. She wanted nothing more than to dry the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes, but she could do nothing of the sort. Hermione would not speak a word about Harry's whereabouts because he was the only hope of ridding the world of such evil. She had made a promise, and by the look of things, that would be the only thing she could give Severus. It was what he wanted, and she would make sure to stay true to her word. It was the absolute least she could do.

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said, her voice shaking with terrible remorse.

Snape nodded faintly, accepting his fate with open arms. He looked away from her, unable to take the sight of her feeling tremendous regret and the guilt. His eyes traveled to the door at the opposite end of the room and stayed there. Harry, who was still standing on the other side trying to figure out what to do, was sure Severus looked directly at him. He knew he was running out of time.

Voldemort pulled her hair sharply, forcing her to look back at him. "What say you?"

Hermione gathered up every ounce of courage she possessed and she spoke with more conviction than she had at any other point in her entire life. "I refuse."

Voldemort released Hermione's hair, but moved swiftly to backhand her across the face. Her lip split, but Hermione did not give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pain. The Dark Lord turned from her, his hand open and upturned, toward Bellatrix. He spoke to her similar to that of which a child would, a child who had gone bored with a toy or trinket. "Bella, your blade." He had lost his interest which meant they had just lost their lives.

Bellatrix stood with a grin on her face. "Which one shall I run through first, my Lord?"

"The martyr will do the running through."

That was not what she wanted to hear, but Bellatrix walked forward to place the dagger carefully in his outstretched hand. "As you wish, my Lord."

Before she made it to him, however, Voldemort's cold voice sliced through the earnest silence. "Bella, the Imperious Curse is yours to cast on whichever you desire. They are both deserving of death. For all of your suffering, for the loss of that which was so dear to you, you may take from them what they value. "

"You are most generous, my Lord."

Bellatrix skipped back to the center of the room, practically beaming from the anticipation of causing someone anguish. She waved her wand toward Hermione, who, having been relieved from the spell, immediately collapsed to the floor. A swift kick to the gut was all that was needed to turn Hermione on her side. Bellatrix positioned her foot directly over Hermione's throat, the sharp heel of her shoe digging painfully into the exposed, vulnerable flesh. "For too long you have eluded what you ought to have. I intend to give it to you."

Bellatrix bent down, putting her face above Hermione's. She brought the tip of her wand to Hermione's jaw, digging it in painfully as she moved up the side of her face. "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

Hermione refused to respond to her question. Her insolence was met with a strong dose of the Cruciatus Curse. "So uncouth, even for such filth. Perhaps I should teach you some manners first." Hermione once again found herself on the receiving end of Lestrange's wand. "When I ask you a question, you answer it, you stupid girl!"

On the other side of the door, Harry, slowly grasped the door handle as he pressed his ear to the door. From the other side, he could hear his friend's muffled cries and Bellatrix's taunts.

"I'm going to make you kill him," she said, casting a quick glance at Severus, who was still spelled to the ceiling. "After you watch the light leave his eyes, after he bleeds out over this floor, only then will you meet the same fate."

It was in that exact moment when Harry lost his nerve and his patience. To hell with the risk, he thought. He had seen and heard enough of the madness to last him a lifetime. He motioned for Ron to stand behind a long tapestry draped heavily over the wall. Once Ron was securely hidden from sight, Harry turned the handle on the door and pushed it open slightly. The old door squeaked loudly in protest, catching the attention of the occupants of the room.

Lucius Malfoy approached the door cautiously, pushing it open with the end of his cane. The feet of the petrified Death Eater came into view. Lucius took another step, which put him directly in front of the door. "Yaxley?"

Suddenly the door, as well as rather startled Lucius, was blown forcefully across the room. Dust and bits of the wooden door were sent raining down throughout the room. When the smoke cleared, the Boy Who Lived was standing in the doorway, with Ron directly behind him.

"You wanted me, Riddle, here I am. Let's end this, you and I."

Bellatrix took an abrupt step forward, her wand trained on Harry. "How dare you, you despicable little worm?" Before she got close enough to Harry to cast her curse, Bellatrix was pulled backwards by an invisible force. She hit the wall hard, but she stayed put, realizing she had overstepped her bounds.

The Dark Lord moved to stand right in front of him, daring anyone to take a step toward his prize. "He is mine to have, Bellatrix. That goes for the rest of you," he said, eyeing Lucius who had just made it to his feet. "You have made a grave error coming here, Harry Potter, for it is here that I will kill you."

Harry took another step toward Voldemort, crossing the threshold into the room. "If you're going to do it, why do you need your pack of goons with you? Seven on two is not exactly a fair fight, is it? Only a coward would hide behind those numbers."

"You filthy Half-blood, how dare you speak to him this way?" Bellatrix's shrieks drew another wave of silence from Voldemort.

"You think the odds unfair, Potter? Well, let's see if I can help you out. Let's see, where could I find some Muggle lovers like yourself on such short notice? Oh, look, there's one on the ceiling. Let me get him down for you."

With a snap of the Dark Lord's fingers, Snape began hurling toward the ground. Ron raised his wand quickly, casting the Aresto Momentum Charm. Snape's body stopped with a jolt twelve inches above the floor. Ron levitated his limp body away from Voldemort and the Death Eaters, placing it behind himself and Harry. The groan that escaped Snape's lips was dripping with pain, but at least at was proof that he was still alive. Harry motioned toward the crying girl kneeling in the middle of the floor. "Hermione, too."

"The Mudblood's spirit is as broken as Snape's body. Neither of them will be of any use to you. If it will put your feeble mind at ease, however, she's all yours."

Bellatrix could not control her outrage. "Surely you cannot be serious, my Lord."

"Bella, what does it matter if they die on this side of the room or that one? I assure you, none of them will leave the room alive. However, I would advise you never to question my judgment again or there will be a stiff penalty."

Bellatrix watched Hermione slowly make her way to Harry with a heavy frown on her face. "Yes, my Lord."

"So, Potter, now that you are at full strength," the Dark Lord said with a smirk, "what do you say we finish this once and for all?"

"Great idea," Harry replied, raising his wand. Harry and Voldemort stood in the center of the room for only a few moments before they simultaneously cast spells in the other's direction. The red stream from Harry's wand met its green counterpart from the Dark Lord, causing a violent display of light and sound that filled the entire room.

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Author's Notes:  
As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Happy reading to all!


	23. The Great Escape

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 22**

The Great Escape

Hermione tried to gather her bearings after the initial blast of light and sound from Voldemort's wand dissipated. There was a ringing in her ears so strong that it caused her vision to go blurry. As she surveyed the room, she saw Severus's body lying on the floor, broken and bloody. Beyond him, she saw Harry and Voldemort battling, streams from their wands locked together in midair. She would never be able to repay him for coming to their rescue, but she would do everything in her power to make sure his efforts were not in vain. The blast had knocked her almost out into the hallway, away from the chaos transpiring in the room. Sore, overwhelmed, and teetering on the edge of exhaustion, Hermione struggled to bring herself to her knees.

She looked to her left and saw Ron getting to his feet. He reached out a hand to her and she used it to help herself up. Hermione rushed on wobbly legs to Snape's side. She looked to the occupants in the room. The eyes of the Death Eaters were on their master. This was her chance to get him to safety. "Help me get Professor Snape out of here," she shouted at Ron. "Move quickly, and then get back here to help Harry!"

Ron and Hermione each grabbed one of Snape's ankles and dragged him out of the room and down the hall to an empty bedroom. As Ron turned to leave, Hermione spotted her beaded bag in his back pocket. "Ron, my bag! There might be something in there to help him." Ron tossed her the bag and turned to leave. "Ron, get to Harry and bring him back. We have to get out of here! And please be careful!" Ron nodded and left the room.

Hermione began rummaging frantically through her bag. She knew the contents were paltry, but after opening the small sack containing the phials, she realized that Essence of Dittany was the only thing she had that would work. No Blood Replenishing Potion. No Felix Felicis—nothing of importance or significance. She scrambled over to him with what little Dittany she had left, trying to fix the terrible gash on his leg.

With each drop of the Potion, the wound sizzled and hissed, but Severus did not stir. After closing the wound, Hermione turned her attention to the rest of him, desperately searching for any other cuts or gashes that would impede his movement or make his condition worse if left unattended. She quickly ran her hands over his jacket in an attempt to spot any more bleeding, when a slight bulge over his left breast pocket caught her attention. It was too small to be a wand, but she could not tell what it was by just feeling it. She would have to look.

She yanked open his jacket, sending several buttons flying in all directions around the room. Being careful not to damage whatever it was in Severus's pocket, she retrieved a small corked phial. She held the potion up to the window, trying to determine if it was something of relevance. She was unable to make out the color or consistency by the moon light. If her professor had been awake and cognizant of what she was about to do, she would have never done it. Taking the cork from the phial, she held the cork to her nose, inhaling deeply. That particular idea worked.

It appeared to be an Invigorative Draught, and quite a powerful dose of it no less. The sickly, sour smell of the potion seemed to give her a slight boost, though the effects were gone soon after that. The only way to be absolutely certain of the contents of the phial would be to taste it. Blindly tasting any potion, even when the drinker possessed some knowledge of the contents, was a bad idea. As it happened, this bad idea was the only one she had left and she knew she was running out of time.

She stuck her finger down in the phial, coating the tip of her fingernail in the slightly viscous liquid. The consistency was right for an Invigorative Draught. She brought her finger to her mouth quickly before she had any time to change her mind. The effects of the potion were almost immediate. Her stupidity had paid off. The haze of her recent torture left her entirely, leaving her mind almost completely clear. The physical effects of the Cruciatus Cruse were masked by a tingling sensation that spread from the pit of her stomach to her extremities. It was almost like her entire body was finally receiving circulation after having fallen asleep for some time.

With the remaining potion in hand, she put her professor's head in her lap to prevent choking. She carefully poured the contents into his mouth, while massaging his throat to make him swallow. Severus sputtered a bit and Hermione watched and waited intently for him to come around. Her concentration was interrupted by a loud clamor outside the door. The fighting had spilled over into the hallway, she realized, and she moved quickly to roll Severus under the bed. Hermione searched frenetically for a place to hide. She spotted a wardrobe in the corner of the room and took refuge inside it, leaving the door cracked just enough to survey the room in case anyone got too close to finding Severus.

She listened with keen ears, hearing the sound of hurried and panicked footsteps. They grew louder as the people responsible for the commotion fled down the hall toward the stairs. That could only mean one thing. Harry and Ron were running. Soon after, voices followed the frantic footfalls she had just heard. They were coming from just beyond the closed door, causing her to freeze. Hermione brought her hand to her mouth to silence her labored breathing, trying desperately to make out the Dark Lord's instructions.

"Stop them, you fucking fools! If Harry Potter leaves this house you will wish for Hell after I am through with you!"

Hermione was suddenly very aware of how treacherous their situation was. There was nothing she could do, especially when she was completely trapped. Moments later, much to Hermione's horror, the bedroom door opened. Wormtail appeared in the doorway, his beady eyes searching the room, undoubtedly looking for her and Severus. Hermione watched as he stepped inside and immediately spotted the wardrobe, which he eyed with an intense curiosity. He sniffed the air with his rodent-like nose and a sick smile appeared on his face as he approached Hermione's hiding place. As he reached his hand out to open the door, Hermione pushed the door open with all her strength. The door made contact with Wormtail's face and sent him tumbling backwards. Hermione's foot caught as she tried to exit the wardrobe, giving Wormtail the opportunity to stand up and lunge toward her. Hermione smacked into the wall with a thud. "Where is Snape," Pettigrew demanded viciously as he pinned Hermione to the wall. "The Dark Lord will grant you the mercy of a quick death if you give up the traitor's whereabouts willingly."

"You have some nerve calling anyone a traitor, rat!" Hermione taunted as she scanned the room for anything that she could use to get out of this situation. Fortunately, she was little more than a foot from the room's fireplace. She tried to keep Wormtail distracted as she moved her hand toward the rack of tools sitting next to the fireplace. "I wonder what name James and Lily Potter would have for you after what you did to them? And you were supposed to be their friend." Hermione's arm was fully extended, but the fireplace tools sat just beyond her reach. She had to get free from Wormtail before she could get it.

"Spare me the lecture and tell me where Snape is!" Wormtail's eyes narrowed. "I'll have to tell the Dark Lord if you don't cooperate. He'll make sure you suffer."

"Okay, okay. Just please don't hurt me. I'll tell you where he is. I'll show you even. Just loosen your grip on my arm, please. You're hurting me."

Wormtail looked at her warily. "Alright, but you better not try anything." He slowly released his grip on Hermione's arm. As soon as she was free of his grasp, Hermione gave Wormtail a swift knee to the groin, causing him to double over in pain. Without thinking, she grabbed the iron poker from its rack and delivered a blow to the side of Wormtail's head, burying the poker's spike into his temple and killing him instantly.

Wormtail's body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. Hermione fell to her knees, fighting the urge to wretch as she watched the pool of blood from around the dead man's head. Now was not the time to lose control of her emotions, though the situation she currently found herself in was leading her toward a state of pure panic. Before she could help it, a shuddering sob seized her. She would have been consumed by it, had it not been for a pair of strong hands gripping her shoulders.

"There, there. No need to cry. He deserved it." Hermione was jolted from her shock by the familiar, sarcastic voice.

"Severus!" she shrieked as made her way to her feet and threw her arms around him. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked, you silly witch," he said as his arms wrapped around her for the slightest moment. Severus released her, his hand guiding her chin so she would look at him. "Now compose yourself, we have to get out of here. Do you have your wand?"

"No," Hermione said nervously, wiping a tear from her cheek. She pointed out Wormtail's body on the floor, swallowing hard at the sight of the blood that had seeped from the gaping wound in the side of his head. "He has it."

Severus used the toe of his boot to flip Wormtail over. He saw Hermione's wand sticking out of Pettigrew's pocket. He grabbed it and handed it to its rightful owner before prying Wormtail's wand from his hand to replace his own wand which was still in Dolohov's possession. "Let's go," Severus said as he headed for the door. Hermione retrieved her Galleons from Wormtail's pocket before following Snape to the door.

Severus and Hermione were surprised at how quiet things were on the upper level of the Riddle house. The commotion seemed to have made its way downstairs. "We have to get down there and help Harry and Ron," Hermione insisted, pushing her way in front of Severus. "I heard them running before you woke up. He's not going to let them leave the house alive. If they have them cornered down there, it won't be long before they kill them."

Severus placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder to hold her back. "We will go help them, but we must be careful. The Dark Lord will be expecting us to rush to their aid if Wormtail didn't finish us off. He'll have someone waiting for us."

Hermione nodded as she made to step down from the landing of the staircase. Before her foot connected with the wood, she felt a searing pain in her chest and was violently thrown into the wall. Severus, who had been a few paces behind her, looked up to find himself being held at wand point by Thorfinn Rowle.

The huge, blond Death Eater stood in the middle of the run of stairs looking murderous. "Surely you and your filthy companion weren't planning on leaving so soon? Where are your manners, Severus? The party has only begun."

Severus's dark eyes never left the man in front of him as his grip tightened around the wand he held. "What a rousing display of courage, Rowle. Here to save the day, I presume? The Dark Lord would be beside himself to see you doing something productive."

Rowle's gaze narrowed. "Fuck you, Snape."

"As eloquent as ever," Severus said, goading him further. "Tell me, what bidding of his has he sent you with this time?"

"I think you already know," Thorfinn said as a sickly twisted smirk crossed his face. "Once I finish you—"

"I would love to see you try," Severus interrupted as he stepped down onto the staircase, placing himself between Hermione and the Death Eater. "You had best do whatever damage you intend before I kill you where you stand."

The threat sent the Dark wizard over the edge. A powerful Killing Curse shot from the tip of his wand, narrowly missing Severus's head as it spiraled past him and crashed into the wall directly above where Hermione sat.

Before Severus had time to utter a word, a powerful blast of magic came from behind him, striking the Death Eater in the chest. Rowel's wand tumbled from his hand and clattered to the floor below him. Thorfinn collapsed to his knees, clawing at the front of his shirt as though it were on fire. Severus watched on as huge gashes, deep as they were wide, appeared through the tears of his shirt.

He looked back to see who was responsible for the damage Thorfinn received to find Hermione with her wand trained on the heaving Death Eater.

"Next time you turn your wand on someone," Hermione warned, "make sure you finish the job."

Rowle lunged at her, but he never met his target. The silent Sectumsempra Curse from Snape hit him with deft precision. His torso was flayed nearly wide open and he dropped like a dead weight, his blood draining on the wood around him.

Severus reached for Hermione, locking his hand with hers when they met. He guided her past the dead wizard on the stairs and down to the main floor of the Riddle House. The scene that waited for them, just as Severus had anticipated, was utter chaos. Harry and Ron stood back to back surrounded by Death Eaters, including Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov. There was one person in particular that was conspicuous by his absence.

"Where's Voldemort," Hermione whispered from where they stooped.

"I don't know, and that's not good," Severus replied, his grip on her hand intensifying.

Suddenly, the two were startled by a voice behind them. "Why, how kind of you to ask." Severus and Hermione spun around to find themselves face to face with the darkest of Dark wizards. Voldemort extended a hand toward the sitting room. "Won't you join me for a chat?" The two of them stood still in disbelief that they had been foolish enough to wander into Voldemort's trap. When Hermione and Snape had not moved for a few seconds, Voldemort's patience began to wane. "Where are your manners?" He pointed a wand at the pair and they both found themselves suddenly suspended in the air by their ankles. Voldemort flung them violently down the hallway and into the sitting room. He made his way down the hallway toward them, stowing the wand he held in his robes. As Hermione and Severus looked up at him from the floor, he began speaking.

"You're probably wondering why I am focusing my attention on you when the infamous 'Boy who Lived' is merely one room over. That's a fair question, and one I will answer before I put an end to your miserable lives. You see, it has to do with this," Voldemort said as he pulled an entirely different wand from his cloak, "and with you, Severus."

Hermione's eyes widened as she focused on the wand the Dark Lord was holding. This did not go unnoticed by Voldemort. "Yes, girl, you've seen this wand before, haven't you?" Hermione nodded nervously. "And where have you seen it, Mudblood?"

"It's Dumbledore's," Hermione blurted out before she could help it.

"No, it _was_ Dumbledore's. In fact, the old man had it buried with him, but I retrieved it. You see, I have gone to great lengths to procure this wand. I started by interrogating old Ollivander about it and he led me to another wand maker called Gregorovitch in Eastern Europe. After I tracked him down, Gregorovitch told me that the wand was stolen from him years ago by a young thief. A lesser man may have given up at that point and accepted that the wand was lost forever, but not me. I was determined to have it. So, I delved into the old man's memories before I killed him. I saw the thief and recognized him as Gellert Grindelwald. I found Grindelwald at Nurmengard prison. It was there that I learned that the wand had been won from Grindelwald by your beloved Dumbledore. So, I killed the old has-been too and retrieved the wand from Dumbledore's grave myself. Tell me, Severus, why would I go through such trouble to steal a dead man's wand?"

Severus cleared his throat. "Because you believe it to be the Elder Wand."

Voldemort's eyes flashed with anger. "It is the Elder Wand! Dumbledore never told you that, did he? Of course not. He would have you believe that his intentions in this whole ordeal were pure and altruistic, but I knew the truth. He didn't oppose me because he gave a damn about the safety of Muggles or Mudbloods, but because he thirsted for power and knew I was his greatest threat to achieving it."

"That's a lie!" Hermione screamed. "Dumbledore was a great man."

Voldemort smiled as he turned his attention to Hermione. "Then why would he have this? Why did he possess the most powerful wand ever created and never tell anyone about it?"

"The wand is a fairy tale," she retorted, "a story told to help children go to sleep."

"Is that right," Voldemort asked rhetorically. "What say you, Severus? I'm sure a smart wizard like yourself has already figured out the role you play in all of this. This wand was Dumbledore's and now it is in my possession, but it is not truly mine. You see, although Dumbledore took this wand to the grave with him, it no longer belonged to him when he was buried. Care to tell us why that is, Severus?"

"Because I killed Dumbledore and now the wand belongs to me," Severus replied coolly. "And you think that by killing me, you will become the true master of the Elder Wand."

"Precisely," Voldemort hissed. "To be honest, until recently I had dreaded this day, Severus. I had grown quite fond of you, and it pained me to know that I should one day have to take your life. In light of recent developments, however, I must say that this will be highly gratifying." Voldemort pointed his wand at Snape, "Good bye, Severus. Avada Kedavra!"

A blast shot from Voldemort's wand toward Severus. Before it could reach its desired target, however, it was interrupted by the form of someone appearing in front of the place where Severus sat. Hermione shrieked in horror when she realized what had happened. Harry's body absorbed the curse and crumpled to the ground in front of them. Severus stood up, his wand pointed at Voldemort, but the Dark Lord cast a spell knocking him to the ground. Voldemort disappeared in a puff of black smoke, leaving Severus and Hermione alone with Harry's body.

"He isn't breathing," Hermione sobbed, her hands shaking frantically over his chest. "Why would he do that? We need him! We can't defeat Voldemort without him."

"You have to take him and get out of here," Severus insisted. "Take him back to where I took you after we left Hogwarts. You know the way."

Severus's words were cut short by a loud crack.

"Oh, I don't think you'll be leaving so soon, Severus." Severus looked up to find himself staring at the Dark Lord once again. Momentarily, several more loud cracks were heard as the room began to fill with Death Eaters. Bellatrix appeared next to the Dark Lord with Ron firmly in her grasp, her wand pointed at his temple. "Behold, all of you, Harry Potter is dead!" A loud chorus of cheers erupted from Voldemort's followers. "And now, his friends will join him. But who shall we dispose of first?"

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion emanating from the kitchen down the hall which was immediately followed by an intense heat. Flames began roaring down the hallway before one of the Death Eaters closed the heavy door sealing the room off from the blaze. Smoke began pouring into the room from the crack beneath the door, and it was apparent that the door would not keep the fire at bay for long. "What is this," the Dark Lord seethed. "Who is responsible for this!?"

"Probably one of those foul House Elves, my Lord," Dolohov responded. "They were trying their best to screw everything up."

"Make sure they die here," Voldemort commanded before Disapparating from the house, leaving his most trusted followers in the room with their captives.

Those remaining in the sitting room, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov looked at each other for a few seconds before Lucius spoke. "Take care of them," he instructed, "I have to find Draco." Lucius vanished quickly, leaving his comrades outnumbered.

"Cowardly, self-serving bastard," Dolohov said through clinched teeth. "Waste the blood traitor, Bella."

"No!" Hermione screamed. She stood up and pointed her wand at Bellatrix. "Let him go!"

"Antonin, it appears we have a volunteer to go first. I'd hate to be rude and not oblige the little Mudblood's requ…" Bellatrix's voice cut off mid-word and a look of surprise and dazed horror crossed her face. Her wand lowered momentarily and Ron wasted no time seizing his opportunity. He stomped hard on her foot, causing the grip she had on his neck to loosen. As soon as Ron was free of Bellatrix's grasp, Hermione hit the dark witch with a Knockback Jinx, sending her tumbling into the wall.

The door separating the room from the rest of the house suddenly burst into flame. Bellatrix, on all fours, frantically searched for her wand, having lost it when she made impact with the wall. It was no use, the smoke and flames made it almost impossible. Dolohov found himself outnumbered three to one. Snape took a step toward him, but the Death Eater managed to hit him with a Full Body-Bind Curse, freezing him in his tracks. Dolohov quickly closed on Hermione, his eyes full of hate and anger. "It's time for you to die, Mudblood whore." He pointed his wand at the young witch and was prepared to cast the Killing Curse when his wand suddenly flew from his hand and into the hand of Ron Weasley. Ron then cast a Stunning Spell, knocking Dolohov to the floor.

"Well done, Mister Weasley, now throw me my wand." Ron tossed the wand he had taken from Dolohov to Snape, who had seemingly recovered much too quickly from the Full Body-Bind. "Miss Granger, take Weasley and Potter to safety. I will join you momentarily." Hermione opened her mouth in protest, but was cut off quickly. "There is no time for arguing. Go now!" Hermione obediently took Ron's hand and grabbed Harry's limp arm before Disapparating.

Dolohov looked up at Severus in horror. "Surprised to see me moving about," Severus inquired sarcastically. "You have lost a step, Antonin. Surely you realize that you tried to hex me with my own wand." Severus pulled a groggy Dolohov to his knees. "I made the mistake of letting you live once. I won't make it again." Severus's hands tightened around Dolohov's head before twisting it violently. A crack resonated throughout the room with a volume that rivaled any Apparation, and Dolohov's lifeless body fell to the ground. 

By this point, flames and smoke had filled the room. Severus knew he must get out. He heard another crack, telling him that Bellatrix had found her wand and escaped the flames. He followed suit and made his way toward Spinner's End, dreading the confirmation of his fear that likely awaited him there.

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Author’s Notes:  
As always, your reviews are welcomed and appreciated.


	24. Plights and Old Friends

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

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**Chapter 23**

Plights and Old Friends

Bellatrix Lestrange found herself nearly blinded by the searing pain in her left leg. With shaking hands and a bevy of curses spewing from her lips, the Dark witch carefully raised the hem of her dress to reveal a deep gash that extended from the top of her knee to the middle of her thigh. Her hands moved to the wound to stifle the blood, but it flowed unimpeded onto the stone floor around her.

It was then she realized she had not been struck by a hex, but rather damaged herself in a splinching. When she deserted the Riddle house some moments before, her original destination had been the secluded hideout of her master in the dense forests of Albania. Somewhere along the way, however, she thought better of her decision.

The Dark Lord would not take lightly the great failure that had transpired on her watch. She had been given an order to kill, and she had not succeeded. Severus Snape, Mudblood Granger and the redheaded Blood-traitor were able to escape, but not before completely destroying Riddle's childhood home and those most trusted in his inner circle. While that would have been enough to warrant a harsh rebuking from Voldemort, that was not the most damning information Bellatrix carried. No, the secret she wished she had never been privy to would most certainly result in her untimely demise. It was because of this that she found herself bleeding out on the stone floor of her sister's home.

Bellatrix fought through the nauseating agony and made her way to her feet. If she still had luck on her side, as she usually did, Narcissa would be alone, and the two of them could secretly hash out a plan that would keep their lives intact a while longer. She stumbled through the darkened halls of the sleeping house, knocking all manner of things from the nearby tables as she latched to them to keep herself upright.

"Narcissa! Cissy, wake up!" Bellatrix shrill voice bounced off the stone walls, far more startling than any Caterwauling Charm. If Narcissa Malfoy was sleeping, she wouldn't be much longer. The sound of hurried footfall on the stone could be heard over her gasps. Bellatrix turned to spot the Malfoy house-elf, Sozi, running down the darkened corridor, his bat like ears flopping wildly as he approached.

"Madame Lestrange! Sozi will help!"

"Wake your mistress, you fucking dung heap! Tell her I need her!"

The shocked elf stood an instant too long and found himself being launched backward by the swift backhand from the crazed witch. "Now!"

The elf picked himself up off the floor and ran off up the staircase in the direction of Narcissa's room. Moments later, Narcissa briskly appeared on the staircase, her bare feet visible under her black silk dressing gown.

"Bella?" Narcissa's wide eyes surveyed the room, noticing the trail of blood that followed behind Bellatrix. "You're bleeding all over the floor!"

"I've noticed!" Bella bit out through clenched teeth. "Help me before I meet my death on your carpets!"

Narcissa hurried toward her battered sister just in time to catch her before she toppled over. "My God, Bella! What happened to you?"

Narcissa escorted Bellatrix into the parlor where the Dark witch stretched out on the settee to allow Narcissa a closer look at the wound she had acquired. "Snape and that vile Mudblood escaped. The mighty Antonin Dolohov," she hissed, an air of mocking superiority in her tone, "the sodding bastard, is dead. He let Snape get his hands on him, and his neck was wrung for it."

"Severus did this to you," she asked, choking back the urge to vomit at the sight of exposed muscle and tissue. She turned to the house-elf, her face a sickly color. "Sozi, fetch the Dittany from the potions cupboard!"

"No, Snape couldn't touch me. This was my doing. I've gone and splinched myself to the fucking bone!"

"Where were you going?"

"The Dark Lord," Bellatrix managed with a guttural grunt. "I was going to Albania."

"You should have gone to him, Bella! He could have healed you in a moment!"

Pained horror flashed across her sharp features. "No! I cannot face the Dark Lord. He will surely kill me, and he will come for you if he knows I've been here!"

Narcissa brought a pale hand to her mouth out of surprise. Things were far worse than she had first thought if Bellatrix was afraid to speak to her master. Her mind went immediately to her family. "What of Lucius and Draco? Were they with you? Were they harmed?"

Bellatrix reached up from her spot on the settee, grabbing Narcissa around the neck. "Stop blathering on about your idiot husband and worthless spawn! Listen to what I am telling you!" the older witch shrieked. "The Dark Lord killed Harry Potter. The Killing Curse hit him squarely in his chest. I saw him lying at the Dark Lord's feet—"

"Then what is the problem?" Narcissa interrupted. "He should be proud of himself for killing his child enemy. Perhaps his seventeen year quest for revenge will come to an end."

The sarcasm in Narcissa's voice did not go unnoticed. Bellatrix's eyes darkened. "Do not speak treason against our Lord! You will surely regret it if he discovers you."

Narcissa's face became frigid as she cast an unforgiving glare toward her sister. They would have remained locked in this fierce stare had the sound of the house-elf Apparating back to the parlor not caused both of them to jump. "I have no intention of stepping foot in front of him," Narcissa seethed, "nor would my idiot husband or worthless spawn if I had anything to do with it." She reached down, grasping her sister's torn leg in her hands rougher than necessary.

Bellatrix could not form a reply as she had shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming.

"Hold still," Narcissa snapped as she removed the cork from the phial of Dittany and emptied the bottle's contents onto Bellatrix's leg. The wound hissed and bubbled furiously and the black-haired witch howled like a wounded animal as her fleshed connected again.

"This is your battle, not mine," Narcissa said, her voice cold and unforgiving, as though she thought Bellatrix deserved what she got. Part of her did feel that way, but blood ran thicker than any stream of calloused vindictiveness.

"On the contrary, my dear, naïve sister, this is your battle just as it is mine. It was your husband and son who fled like gutless swine, leaving Dolohov and me to carry out the Dark Lord's orders to slaughter those who remained. The Dark Lord fled when the inferno threatened to overpower us. We were outnumbered, and the house was in flames."

"So what if the three of them got away? The Boy-who-lived lives no more."

Bellatrix, whose mind was no longer addled with pain, jumped from the settee knocking Narcissa to the floor. Her arms waved madly in the air above her head and her eyes seemed as though they would jump out of their sockets. "You don't understand! He is not dead, Cissy! I saw the cretin move!"

Narcissa made no effort pull herself to her off the floor, instead she grew incredibly still as the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood. "How—"

"I don't know how, but the Killing Curse did not work. He opened his eyes just as the Mudblood girl Apparated!"

"Perhaps you saw things, sister."

"No!" Bellatrix screamed as she paced. Her hands knotted in her curls as though she had truly gone mad. "This was certain. He looked right at me."

Narcissa suddenly jumped upright. Her face contorted with understanding and fear. Things were much worse than she imagined. "You let them get away!"

Bellatrix stamped her feet as her tirade escalated to new heights as the seconds ticked past. "I had no choice, you fool! They were gone before I could get my wand! The Mudblood hit me with a jinx!"

Narcissa backed away from her sister with haste. "You have to leave, Bellatrix. You have brought the Dark Lord's wrath to this house by coming here!"

Bellatrix whipped around to face the blonde witch. Her dark eyes were wild with surprise and disbelief. "You dare throw your own flesh and blood to the wolves?"

"By having told me this you have thrown us both to the wolves! You have damned us all!"

"I need time to think of what to do! Going to the Dark Lord would not be a wise choice for any of us. If he finds out, you will be scraping pieces of your precious blond men from the floors!"

"Why not lie?" Narcissa suggested. She knew that idea held no merit, but if it would get Bellatrix out of her house, so be it.

A scathing noise erupted from Bellatrix's lips as she laughed bitterly in sister's face. "The Dark Lord knows all lies. I could never conceal such a travesty from him."

"Did anyone else see the Potter boy open his eyes?"

Narcissa watched as a sly smile paid a visit to Bellatrix's lips. It was obvious she had just discovered her out. "It appears we are not damned after all, Cissy!" she cackled in a singsong. "How did I not realize?"

Bellatrix started to pace, this time deep in thought as she remembered all that had transpired minutes before. "Snape's attention was on Dolohov, the blood traitor and the Mudblood had bigger fish to fry than their dead savior. However, if he truly lives, I would imagine they know it now."

"What if they publicize that fact?"

"They wouldn't," Bellatrix answered. "That would be a grave error of judgment on their part. They are all worn down; they would not want to draw attention to themselves."

"Then you are in the clear."

"The Dark Lord will want proof the deed was done," Bellatrix said aloud to herself, clearly devising a plan to save her hide.

"What if Severus gets to him first, Bella? What he spills your secrets?"

"We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen," the Dark witch said confidently. She took a deep, steadying breath to calm herself before she spoke again. "Narcissa, I must ask you for your help."

Narcissa held up her hand as though to protest. She would have rather done anything than help her sister. Narcissa Malfoy was not a Death Eater, and she had no desire to become one given the way things were transpiring. "Bellatrix, you ask too much of me. I know nothing of the ways of war. I want no part of this."

Bellatrix circled the younger witch. She obviously had a plan in mind. "You do not bear the Mark, but it is inside you. You can't deny it. What if Snape had snapped Lucius's head from his shoulders instead of Antonin? What if the filthy Mudblood or the Weasley worm harmed your son? They are after the blood of you and yours, Cissy. You should want a part of this because you deserve it! You should want to make them pay."

"Bella—"

Bellatrix placed a single finger to her sister's lips. "Shhhhhh. Do it for Lucius and your darling Draco. Think of the pain and certain death you will spare them if we do this and succeed."

"And if we fail?"

"We will not fail, and we will keep them from harm if you assist me. Do you understand, Narcissa?"

Narcissa was quiet for some time, staring at her sister's blood as it dripped down the side of the white settee to the floor below. It could have belonged to Draco or Lucius, and that was something she could not have. "Very well," she answered, her voice shaking slightly. "What must I do?"

Bellatrix flashed a sinister smile as she brushed a golden strand of unkempt hair behind Narcissa's ear. "You will help me find them and finish them, my sweet Cissy."

*****

Severus's feet landed on the hardwood floor of his home with a deep resounding thud. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the faces of his three former students. Instead, he found himself plunged into a ceaseless darkness. The tip of his wand flared to life with a dim light as he searched for any sign of their presence. There weren't any. No dusty footprints, no light, and no body of the slain Harry Potter.

For the slightest second, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Perhaps Hermione had taken them someplace else? He quickly forced that notion from his mind. She would not split them up. They had to be there. Panic gripped him relentlessly as he turned for the stairs leading to the second floor. He fumbled with the books, trying to find the one that revealed the steps, only to have the concealed staircase spring open in his face. Severus looked up to find himself at wand point.

Hermione Granger's eyes settled on him with uncertainty. "What did I ask you to teach me before we went to Hogwarts?"

Severus lowered his wand in surrender and reached out for her. She backed up the stairs, her wand pointed between his eyes. "Hermione, it's me."

Hermione fought back the tears pooling in her eyes. She shook her head as though she knew it was truly him, but was afraid to take that leap of faith. "Answer the question, then I'll know for sure."

"Fine. You asked me to teach you how to fly unaided."

"And what was your response?"

"I told you no."

"You said you didn't want to be a bad influence," she added, the tears falling freely now.

He allowed a slight smile to creep across his lips. "I did—"

She flung herself at him before he could finish, wrapping her arms around his middle. "I didn't think you were ever coming!"

His arms stalled for a moment before they encircled her in a strong, protective embrace. "I told you I would follow behind, didn't I?"

Hermione looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. The tear stains had streaked her cheeks, cutting through the ash left there from the fire at the Riddle house. "Yes, you did. But it doesn't stop me from worrying," she admitted. "I can't lose anyone else I care about."

He looked at her, slightly stunned that she would say such a thing but he offered her a weak smile in spite of that. "You've much more important things to worry about than me. Where is Mister Weasley?"

Hermione swallowed hard to control her emotions as she pointed up to the second floor. "He…He is upstairs. He hasn't left Harry's side since we got here. I don't know how we are going to finish this now."

"We will," Severus assured her. "For now, however, we must figure out the next step from here." He took her hand and led her up the stairs to the room where Ron Weasley was quietly mourning the death of his best friend.

The sound of the door creaking open did little to distract Ron who was sitting morosely in an old wooden chair. He sat with his head in his hands, the floor beneath him speckled with the tears that had fallen from his eyes. Ronald Weasley was not one to usually allow his emotions to go unchecked, but now that seemed to be the least of his worries.

Hermione stepped toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Ron—"

Ron jerked with a start and wiped his eyes on his dirty shirt sleeve. "I'm alright," he lied. "This is a bit much, is all."

"I know that you are grieving, Mister Weasley," Severus said, "but time is of the essence and we need to devise some sort of plan going forward."

"A plan? Are you serious?" Ron screamed incredulously. "I don't want to devise any bloody plan! My best friend is dead!"

"Your friend won't be the only to die if we don't finish this," Severus warned darkly. "The Dark Lord preys on more than the Chosen One. With Potter out of the way, he will stop at nothing until the Wizarding world is under his thumb."

"He's right, Ron," Hermione managed through her tears. "Think of your brothers and Ginny. We've got a job to do."

"A job?" he scoffed. "We've got nothing, Hermione. You heard what Snape said. Now that the Chosen One is out of the picture, the rest of us will be easy pickings. This is impossible!"

Severus descended on the redhead, taking the collar of his shirt in his fists as he pulled him forward. "So you are just going to stand there and watch the world burn, because you think it's too hard? Get over yourself, Weasley. This is a fucking war, not a tea party."

Severus suddenly found Weasley's wand at the base of his throat. "Get your hands off me."

"What do you think you could possibly do to me?" Snape seethed. "The only reason I haven't knocked you flat on your arse is—"

"Oh my God!" Ron and Severus both turned to Hermione to see a look of absolute terror on her face.

"What's the matter?" Severus asked, concerned.

"Harry moved!" Hermione shouted, clearly upset at what she had just witnessed. "His eyes, they blinked!"

"That is not possible," Severus replied. "It is just your mind playing tricks on you. We all saw him get hit with the Killing Curse. There is no way he could have survived it."

"He did once before," Ron interjected. Severus looked at him, clearly surprised that he would buy into such a preposterous notion. "I'm just saying," Ron said in response to his skeptical look, "it's not impossible."

Severus's cynical stare was cut off when a faint groan came from the table behind them. They both spun on their heels to face Harry lying on the bed. Rom let out a shocked gasp as he saw Harry's eyes flicker open and closed. "Harry!" He rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. "Harry, you're alive!"

Hermione turned to Snape in disbelief. "How is this possible?"

Severus moved to the boy's bedside, extending his wand over his motionless body. He cast a series of spells to detect damage or abnormities to the vital organs only to have them show nothing out of the ordinary. "This is beyond anything I have seen," he admitted. "The Killing Curse, when it strikes a victim, is said to tear their soul from their body. He should not be alive, but his heart beats."

Hermione's hands went to Severus's, and she squeezed tightly. "Don't you see? That's it! Harry was a Horcrux—in a sense, his body contained his soul as well as You-Know-Who's."

"So does that mean the Killing Curse only struck the Dark Lord's soul?" Ron asked, confused. "It doesn't work like that, right?"

"The Killing Curse is nondiscriminatory, Mister Weasley," Severus chided. "There is no blocking it with spells or charms. There is no counter curse for it. There was no physical barrier blocking Potter from it."

"There is no denying the fact he is alive," Hermione said, wringing her hands. "If there were only some way to see if he still had a soul—or see which soul still remains inside him. I don't know if that is even possible."

Severus suddenly looked to her, slightly stunned that the idea had not come to him beforehand. "There is a way. When a Dementor's Kiss is performed, there is a spell used to ensure the deed has been done. It is highly complex, and I do not know it from memory, but there are books detailing the procedure."

Ron sat down heavily in the chair beside Harry's bed. "Please, for the love of Merlin, tell me you know where to find one of these books."

Severus had a great many scathing remarks at his disposal, and Ronald Weasley was deserving of a fair few, but he remained silent. There were far more pressing matters than putting Weasley in his place. He turned without a word and walked out the door and down the hall.

Hermione and Ron exchanged uncertain glances before she scurried toward the door. "You should probably stay with Harry. I'm going to see what he is going to do."

Hermione hurried down the hall and descended the stairs to find Severus looking very intently at a shelf that sat on the opposite wall. She went to his side, flipping on the side table light as she passed. "I'm sorry about Ron, but you have to understand this has been a lot of him—for all of us really."

"You don't have to apologize for him. Ronald Weasley is a Gryffindor. He doesn't know any better, nor can he restrain his fool tongue," Severus mumbled as he scanned the book titles from top to bottom.

Hermione smiled in spite of their current predicament. Severus Snape never ceased to amaze her. "I take it you may be able to help Harry by the way you are searching through these books. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I do have a text that may prove beneficial. Whether it truly is remains to be seen," he admitted. "I have never witnessed this sort of thing in all of my years. We will not know the extent of the damage—or if any damage exists until we find this book. It is titled _Conjurations: Sorcery and Magik through the Ages_. Go look on a different shelf; I've got this one."

The two of them combed the books carefully, searching for the title. Several minutes passed before Hermione removed a dust-covered volume from the bottom shelf of the bookcase. "I've got it," she exclaimed excitedly before she handed the book to Severus.

Severus leafed through the grimoire as quickly as he could without damaging the ancient, crumbling pages. "This incantation, if I am remembering it correctly, will not only reveal the presence of the soul or lack thereof, but it will also show its state."

"Show its state?"

"Yes," Snape said, showing Hermione a page from the text. "As it is explained, the soul of a person, when they are under the effects of the spell, will become dyed, for lack of a better term, for the outward observer to see. The presence of the purest white light indicates the soul remains intact. The essence of that particular person is whole and tethered to their physical body, making them whole. A blackened glow or color represents the lack of a soul, because it shows a hollow emptiness that absorbs everything around it."

"A void waiting to be filled?"

"Precisely, but those two colors are the simplest to detect. The fact that he lives proves a soul resides within him. The state or nature of it is what we are after. If Potter's soul was destroyed rather than the Dark Lord's, the indicator will most likely show a dark red—the color of possession."

Hermione looked at him in sudden horror. "Possession? As in You-Know-Who is actually living through him?"

Severus nodded solemnly. "That would be the most unlikely of outcomes, but it is a possibility, and one that would prove fatal to your friend. He would not survive even though his body clings to the essence."

"Because the You-Know-Who's soul is corrupted?"

"Not only corrupted," Severus answered, "but highly unstable. We have surmised there are at least seven Horcruxes in existence, meaning his soul is split into seven parts. They cannot stand alone, even if they were to find a warm body in which to dwell."

"So, what color are we hoping to see?"

Severus pointed to a small section in the book. "A pale-green that is murky at best. This shows disorientation with the essence of a person meaning one of two things—a part of their soul has been split from them, and no longer remains tied to their physical being, or it has been splintered."

"How are those two things different?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Splintered doesn't necessarily mean it is not still tied to them. Think of it as a spider's web that has been partially torn from its supports. When they catch wind, the tendrils of silk move outward from the points where it maintains the slightest connection. The soul is no different, when the connection is broken from the body in the slightest bit, the soul tends to expand outward in an aurora-type fashion. " A look of slight confusion lingered on Hermione's face as Severus looked up from the book. "There's no time to explain it any further right now. We need to get upstairs."

Severus turned and made his way up the staircase, Hermione following closely behind him. When they reentered the bedroom, Ron was standing over Harry. "Has he made any more attempts to speak or move," Severus inquired.

"No," Ron replied earnestly. "His breathing is getting labored it seems."

Severus motioned for Ron to move and sat the spellbook on the bedside table. He did not draw his wand, but placed his hands against Harry's chest while muttering the incantation, "Anima Specillo." The lack of wand work was unlike anything Hermione had witnessed. She watched as Severus started to pull slowly away from his chest. Below the tips of his fingers a soft glow started to form. "Stand back," he warned as Harry's body started to rise from the bed the further Severus's hands drew away from his chest. Abruptly, Snape slammed his palms down, sending the light rushing into Harry. Harry's body fell back to the sheets as a faint hum filled the room. Severus stood back next to Ron and Hermione, his hands shaking slightly as Harry's body become illuminated by a bright light that started white but began to darken as it worked its way through him. For a moment, it seemed that the light was blackening, but the hue began to lighten into a murky green, prompting a sigh of relief from Hermione. "Look," she uttered excitedly as she grabbed Ron's arm. "It's green!"

Ron looked at her, clearly befuddled at what he was watching unfold in front of him. "What's green mean? Green is a good color, right?"

"The best we could hope for at this juncture," Severus answered. "The green coloration shows his soul still resides within him, but it has been damaged. Look at the wavering in the light. It fades momentarily before going back to its original state."

"The absence of coloration," Hermione said suddenly. "Does that mean his soul is faltering?"

"Faltering is one way to put it," Severus replied flatly as he studied the soft glow that had settled over Harry's chest. "His essence is breaking further, it seems."

"Well, can't you put him back together?" Ron blurted out. The frustration in his voice was nearly breaking way to panic. "You have to fix this!"

"Your friend's soul cannot be simply put back together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, Weasley," Severus chastised. "It is far more complicated than that. However, I may have a solution if I can acquire what I need. The book lists a reference to a potion that may help. However, after looking at the components required to make the Essentia Vitæ Draught, it is safe to say they are rather hard to come by—the most difficult being Phoenix tears. Short of breaking and entering the nearest apothecary, I have no other means of getting the ingredients."

"You're a bloody Potions Master!"

Severus's stance suddenly grew defensive and his tone was equally ominous. "Need I remind you that I have been on the run for quite some time? Do you suppose I keep a fully stocked potion collection on my person for the hell of it? Use your head!"

"I suppose one of us could go to Slug and Jiggers," Hermione offered, trying to ease the tension. "It would take a great deal of money to get what we need the honest way."

Ron's head snapped up as though he has just discovered some great truth. "I've got an idea! We can send Kreacher for it. That old elf helped us get the two of you out of that house; maybe he could sneak in and nick what we need. Kreacher. Kreacher, Harry Potter needs you!"

Hermione shook her head. "Kreacher is not bound to you; he'll never answer your call. Besides, house-elves can't just pop in any place their masters would like."

"She's right," Severus said. "With the stock Slug and Jiggers maintains, no house-elf would ever get to the supplies with the anti-thievery spells. Even the most experienced witches and wizards have difficulty breaking those charms."

"Well, Harry is in no shape to give him orders, and we don't have time to waste trying to figure out how to help him. One of us is going to have to go to Diagon Alley."

Severus's voice was fierce and authoritative. "Absolutely not. Going to Diagon Alley is out of the question. The Dark Lord has spies patrolling the streets. You would be walking straight to your death."

"I don't care about the Dark Lord!" Ron snapped. "I am not letting Harry die!"

Severus's glare intensified at Ron's defiance. Gryffindor tendencies or not, the boy's inability to think logically was starting to grate on his nerves. "I know you're concerned for Potter's well-being but I implore you to think before you start spouting off nonsensical tripe! What good would you be to him if you got yourself caught by Snatchers or worse? You will be shown no mercy should you fall in the hands of Death Eaters."

"Well, we're not doing him any good by just sitting around. There has to be another way!"

"And we'll find it, Ron," Hermione guaranteed in an effort to calm him. "We just have to think of somewhere that we would have easy access to." Just then, Hermione got an idea. "What about Hogwarts? Would the necessary ingredients be among your potions stores, Sev—professor?"

"They would be," Severus replied. "I obtained some Phoenix tears from Dumbledore's familiar sometime before he died. Getting to them is the issue. Diagon Alley is dangerous, but trying to infiltrate Hogwarts after what happened the last time will be nearly impossible. The Dark Lord has taken control of the school and the grounds."

"Then we get someone on the inside," Ron suggested.

Hermione could not deny the idea held merit, but there was one missing piece of the puzzle they had yet to discover. "But who? It's not like we are in regular contact with any of them. If Hogwarts has fallen to the Dark Lord, would they even be willing to help us?"

"Basically, the only people we can trust at Hogwarts are a handful of students that can't leave, Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, who are probably being watched day and night by the Death Eaters, and Dobby," Ron observed pessimistically.

Hermione flashed a genuine smile. "Ron, that is brilliant! Dobby is a free elf. He can come and go at Hogwarts as he pleases! I'm sure the Dark Lord has more important things to worry about than the kitchen staff," she asked as she turned to Severus. "Do you think it would work?"

Severus remained silent for some time, clearly working his way through the pros and cons of the plan they were formulating. Hermione and Ron watched as the hint of a sly smile threatened to creep across his lips. "There's only one way to find out. Call him, Weasley."

Ron did as Severus instructed, and the three of them waited for the house-elf to arrive, but several moments passed without any sign of him. Discouraged, Hermione gave one last plea. "Dobby, Harry Potter needs you. Please come quickly." It was only a moment before a crack drew their attention to the corner of the room where the house-elf had just appeared.

"Sorry Dobby took so long. Dobby was in the kitchens and could not come right away." The house-elf's attention quickly turned to Harry's lifeless body lying on the bed. "Harry Potter!" he said in a panicked tone. "What has happened? He was just alive"

"The Dark Lord's Killing Curse," Severus answered flatly. "Just as before, this one did not kill him, but his soul is no longer intact. He hangs by a thread."

"What must Dobby do," the little elf said as he reached out and touched Harry's hand.

"There is a way to help him," Hermione answered. "But it would be of great personal risk to you if you help us."

"Dobby doesn't care. Harry Potter is more important than a house-elf."

"Very well," Severus said. "There is a potion that can mend his soul, but the ingredients are hard to come by. What I will need is located at Hogwarts, in the restricted potions stores in the Potion Masters office. You must use discretion or Harry Potter will slip from this world."

Dobby nodded his head eagerly, willing Snape to continue.

Severus summoned a spare roll of parchment and quill from a nearby room and composed a list as he spoke. "The most important element is the Phoenix Tears. The tears required must be from a phoenix that has experienced at least five burning days. Anything less than that won't be as effective. The burnings will be marked by tics etched on the phial. Essential oil that has been distilled from the Nux Myristica plant will be needed, as well as brewed knotgrass. They will be kept with the nonpoisonous ingredients along with the crystallized water. Finally, I will need a single-drought volume copper cauldron and scales. The rest I have here," he said as he handed the list to Dobby.

Dobby nodded, and disappeared list in hand for his destination.

He appeared, list in hand, in the Hogwarts kitchen with a crack, but the rest of the house-elves were so busy cleaning up from that evening's feast that few of them even noticed him. Even fewer noticed him as he left the kitchen in pursuit of the potions storeroom. The tiny elf had little difficulty remaining quiet and avoiding being seen. He could have Apparated directly into the storeroom but wanted to make sure the hallways nearby were clear, since Severus had told him to be certain that no one was near the storeroom that might hear him rummaging through the phials.

Dobby made it to the storeroom and looked up and down the hallway until he was certain no one was near. He tried the door, only to discover it was locked. He snapped his fingers and the door opened slightly, allowing the elf entrance. He went to work quickly, trying to find the potions on the list Severus had given him. He found two of the three quickly, but had trouble locating the last bottle. In his frantic search, Dobby failed to realize that he was no longer alone in the storeroom. Only when he heard her throat clear did he look up to see the form of Minerva McGonagall standing in the doorway.

Dobby's huge eyes looked up at the intimidating witch in terror. "What are you doing here, Dobby? You know this room is off-limits to anyone except Hogwarts professors."

"Dobby is sorry, Professor McGonagall, but Dobby had to. Dobby was sent here to help Harry Potter."

Minerva pursed her lips and eyed the elf skeptically. "Harry Potter? You and I both know that Harry Potter is not at Hogwarts, Dobby."

"Dobby knows. Dobby has been with Harry Potter, fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter is hurt and Dobby was sent here to get potions that Harry Potter needs."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Sent here by whom?"

"By Harry Potter's friends."

"Miss Granger and Mister Weasley?"

"Yes, and Headmaster Snape."

A look of horror crossed Minerva's face. "Professor Snape? What in the name of Merlin would they be doing with Snape? You must take me to Harry at once."

"Dobby must first get the potions Harry Potter needs." He handed her the list and indicated the final ingredient he was missing with a skinny finger. Minerva moved swiftly into the storeroom, found the crystallized water, and handed it to the elf.

"Now you will take me to Harry at once or I will be forced to send for Professor Slughorn, and neither of us would like to deal with his nonsense this evening."

Dobby's eyes betrayed a momentary hint of fear before he extended his hand. "Of course, Dobby is glad to take Professor McGonagall along. Take Dobby's hand and we'll be going." Minerva grabbed the elf's hand and the two of them disappeared with a snap of his bony fingers.

They appeared back in the bedroom at Spinner's End and drew the surprised stares of Severus, Ron, and Hermione. It seemed as though her wand had been drawn before she had even arrived.

"Minerva, what a pleasure to see you," Severus said looking down at Dobby with a scowl. The elf smiled sheepishly, offering up the copper cauldron as an apology before disappearing with a faint pop.

Minerva was not amused with Severus's tone, and she made no effort to lower her wand. "Spare me your hollow courtesies, Snape."

Severus's eyebrow rose as his gaze turned to Hermione and Ron, and then his frowning colleague. "You should not be here, Minerva."

The grip on her wand tightened as she raised it to his face. "I am inclined to disagree, Severus. When my students are parading around with a murdering Death Eater, I feel as if I have every right to be here."

Severus stood from his spot beside the bed that held Harry. His hand slowly moving toward the wand concealed in his robes. "I must ask you to lower your wand."

Minerva moved to a dueling stance, a look of determination on her face. "Why? So you can easily pick us off one by one? Is that how you prefer to dispose of wizards? When they are defenseless? You are a coward, Snape!"

Hermione was suddenly between her two professors. Her hand rested on Severus's chest while the other was extended toward Minerva. "Enough of this! We are all on the same side!"

Minerva lowered her wand for a fraction of a second, but soon found its aim right between Snape's eyes. "Stand aside, Miss Granger. You know nothing of the man you shield."

"Nor do you, Professor McGonagall."

"He betrayed us all to the Dark Lord, Hermione!"

Severus tried to move around the young woman coming to his defense, but she pushed him back with her hand. "No, Severus! She has to know," Hermione said, her voice suddenly demanding.

Minerva studied her former student as though she wasn't Hermione Granger, but someone else entirely. "Severus, is it?" she said finally. "Tell me, Miss Granger, what is it I should know about him other than the fact Albus Dumbledore died by his hand. What about the countless students who were tortured by members of his staff? What an upstanding man you protect."

"He had no choice!" Hermione shrieked. "Do you think we would be alive now if that is truly who he is? This man has saved my life more times than I can count. He was the one who sent Dobby to Hogwarts to save Harry. He is the man who risked his life to do Albus Dumbledore's bidding, Professor. See beyond what you were meant to see!"

"Minerva," Severus said, his tone surprisingly calm considering a wand was pointing at his head. "There are things Albus did not tell you."

"Albus would never keep things from the Order."

Snape shook his head. "Albus was the keeper of a great many secrets. There are things he did not divulge even to me."

Minerva's face hardened. There was no way she was going to believe a known murderer. "I wonder if that was because you were living inside the Dark Lord's pocket?"

"That is exactly why Professor Dumbledore didn't tell him," Ron said suddenly. "What do you think the Dark Lord would have done to us if he found out we were searching for pieces of his soul to destroy him? We wouldn't have made it this far if anyone else knew. Why do you think he failed to mention Harry would have to die by the Dark Lord's hand? We would have never left Hogwarts!"

The look of confusion that crossed Minerva's face was undeniable. "That is not possible. Albus would never keep us in the dark."

"It is entirely possible," Severus added. "You were told enough of the truth to form the lies on your own. That was the way it was meant to be. You have been made a victim by Albus's ploy, just as we all have. You have been played for a fool."

Minerva lowered her wand and stepped forward abruptly. Forgetting entirely that Hermione and Ron were standing in the room, the palm her hand connected with the side of Severus's face with a loud crack. "You are a bastard, Severus Snape," Minerva said a few moments later, "and you have a lot of explaining to do."

Hermione's expression went from one of absolute shock to anger in a matter of seconds. She looked at her former professor with intense disappointment. It was unsettling to see someone of good judgment and character in the wrong. "You are out of line, Professor McGonagall."

"No, she isn't," Severus said finally, his voice void of any emotion.

"I don't understand, I thought you told her already; in the letter you sent to her while you and I were at Hogwarts. You said you were going to warn her of what happened."

"You mean the sealed blank bit of parchment I found laying on the floor of my office some weeks ago?" Minerva quipped. "He told me nothing. I woke to discover a nearly appointed Headmaster and a dead co-deputy. Malfoy cast the blame on the students. Hogwarts was placed on lockdown, and the students were interrogated for Alecto Carrow's death. I had to sit defenseless and watch as some were even tortured."

"But I saw him write it. He said he had to explain to you what was going on." Hermione turned to Severus, her eyes giving away her discontent. "You lied to me."

"It was necessary. I had to make you think we were going to Hogwarts to warn them. You would have never gone along and I could not allow you to wander through the Forest of Dean. You were not well."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "You could have told me the truth. You told me you were telling the truth."

"I could not risk anyone finding out."

Minerva looked smugly satisfied. "It seems Severus isn't what you thought of him after all, Miss Granger."

Hermione ignored the remark from McGonagall, looking only to Severus. "Don't lie to me ever again. I deserve the truth from you, even if it's something you think I'll disagree with."

Snape nodded faintly. "You have my word."

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "You can fight and explain all you want later, but right now you've got to help Harry, Professor."

Severus looked to Minerva, noticing her judgmental glare, but he couldn't have cared less. There were some things he ignored, and Minerva's opinion of him was one them. They had more important things to see too. "He's right. I will get your explanation, Minerva, but I must first tend to your cub. You can wait for me downstairs if you'd like."

Minerva's mouth curved with displeasure. "I'd prefer to stay here if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself." Severus retrieved the equipment and ingredients Dobby had collected, and quickly went to work on the abandoned desk near the window. The potion wasn't time consuming to make, but the measurements had to be exact in order to mend as it was intended.

Hermione was soon by his side, and Severus was secretly grateful to have one person in the room that wasn't threatening to hex him. "How can I help?" She asked as she laid her hand on his arm.

Severus handed Hermione the old book without looking at her, and went back to measure the correct volume of Phoenix tears. "Dilute the Myristica essence according to the text. If the fragrans are too strong, they will behave more like a sedative. We want to wake him up, not knock him out."

Hermione did as he asked, carefully pulverizing the crystallized water with a mortar and pestle until it turned to a liquid. She added three carefully measured drops into the phial containing the Myristica, noticing the change in viscosity. "Is this the right consistency?" she asked, showing him the phial. "The tackiness looks to be as the book describes."

Severus dipped the tip of his finger in the phial, and rubbed the mixture between his thumb and forefinger. "It's ready to be added to the cauldron."

Hermione carefully poured the solution into the cauldron Severus had set up. When added to the knotgrass in the bottom of the vessel, the potion changed to a white hissing mixture. "The Phoenix tears are the last element to add, but they must be accompanied by specific stirring motions in order to bring out their healing qualities. You stir and I'll pour," he said as he handed her the crystal stirring rod. "First, two anti-clock wise motions followed by one clockwise motion until the potion turns translucent with a slight shimmer."

Hermione nodded. They two worked together in silence until the last of the Phoenix tears had been added to the cauldron. Within ten minutes time, Severus was reducing the flame and preparing the dosage for use.

Minerva looked skeptical as she watched Snape measure off a rather large dose of the still-steaming liquid. "What exactly will this potion do?" Minerva inquired once she realized he was finished.

Hermione turned to see the incredulous look on her face. "It will hopefully restore his soul and wake him up so we can end this for good."

"Hold him up, lest he choke," Severus said as he approached. Ron and Hermione tugged on Harry's body to pull him off the mattress. Severus tilted Harry's chin and poured the mixture down his throat before turning to Hermione. "Stay here and monitor his progress. It could take a while. I must talk privately with Professor McGonagall."

As Severus motioned for Minerva to follow him, the older witch cast a final glance at Hermione before leaving the chair she had taken during her wait. Hermione had settled herself on the edge of Harry's bed. Her eyes were downcast as she held Harry's hand in hers. Minerva thought of saying something to the young woman, but instead she turned silently and followed Severus to the main floor.

When she reached his humble living room, she found him sitting on the edge of a warn leather chair, his chin in his hand as he stared at the floor.

"Why are you with them, Severus?"

His gaze never left the musty rug in the center of his parlor. "They were apprehended several weeks ago in London. The Dark Lord had tracked them all over Britain for months. They ventured too close and they were captured. They were taken to Malfoy Manor to await him."

"I take it that did not go as he had planned?"

"Of course not, I caught wind of his plans, and created a Portkey to slip to them when I got close enough. My cover was blown in the process. Potter and Weasley were able to escape with the Portkey. Herm—Miss Granger and I followed suit shortly thereafter."

Minerva took a seat on the threadbare settee across from him. "How could they ever believe you after what you did?"

"Miss Granger took a leap of faith. When we found Potter and Weasley in the Forest of Dean he was ready to have my head. It wasn't until after I showed him Albus's memories concerning his death that he started to trust me."

"What about Albus's death? As far as I am concerned, Severus, you cast the Killing Curse."

"On his orders!" he bellowed, rising from his seat abruptly. "Do you not think it does not haunt me to this day to have had to look that man in the eye only take his life seconds later? Even now, when my eyes close for a moment's peace, I see his lifeless face staring at me! It is maddening!"

"His orders?"

Severus ran a hand over his face. "He was dead long before I turned my wand on him. The fool cursed himself by touching a ring belonging to the Dark Lord. He had less than four months left. I tried to do what I could with potions, but it was useless. The curse ate away at him slowly, making him weak."

"His blackened hand—it was a curse?"

Severus nodded. "He called it a mercy killing. He said it would solidify my place at the Dark Lord's side. All it did was force me into a corner. I had no choice but to remain silent as everything fell apart around me."

Minerva, despite the evidence that had been presented to her, seemed unconvinced. "You could have refused him."

"Hardly," Severus scoffed. "I was bound by an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy—under Dumbledore's advisement. I was trapped by both sides. In the event Draco failed to kill him, I was to finish the job, saving a naive boy from a torn soul and an old man from a bitter end."

Minerva's face went sallow with disgust. "This is madness."

"Indeed," Severus agreed, "but you must understand that I had no choice."

"Well you have a choice now," Minerva began matter-of-factly. "Go to the Order and tell them what you know. I'll go with you and vouch for your credibility. They will help protect Harry. Please, Severus, I beg you to listen to reason."

Severus stared into the fire as though he had not heard her.

Minerva stood from her spot on settee. Her tone was oozing with discontent. He was being unreasonable and foolish. "Severus—"

The wizard's clenched fists came down hard on the mantle. "I cannot, Minerva! How many times must I say it?"

"The members of the Order should know your plans," Minerva insisted, coming to stand next to her former colleague. "We have a right to know!"

Severus pushed away from the mantel to place some distance between them. "The fewer people that know of our intentions the better, surely you don't deny that. Why risk loss of life when it is not necessary? I will not allow anyone else to venture into this atrocity if it can be prevented. I will not!"

Minerva's lips pressed into a thin line. "You are outnumbered, what? Four to one? Not to mention you are fighting alongside children—"

"They are hardly children," Severus interjected.

"Of course they are! None of them have any business fighting this war! They should be at school. They should be with their families! They—"

"I do not disagree with you on any account, Minerva, but you must understand and accept that they are our last hope."

"You are no different from Albus, with your secret plans and lies."

Severus smiled in spite of her tone. "What can I say, the fool taught me well. And he was very clear, might I add, that Potter must be the one to slay the Dark Lord. There is a reason he chose to give this task to Potter and not to you or I. I wasn't even supposed be involved, Minerva, but it couldn't be helped, and now I'm in too deep."

Minerva's expression was one of frustration mixed with deep dread. "Surely, there must be something I can do. Your secret is safe with me, Severus, but you must allow me to help you in some way."

"There is something you can do, Professor," a voice interjected from the bottom of the stairs. Minerva and Severus turned quickly and were shocked to see Harry Potter standing in the room, flanked by Ron and Hermione. "You have to get us into Hogwarts."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Very special thanks are extended to everyone who not only take the time to read, but also review. Thank you for reading, truly. Happy reading!


	25. Options

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 24**

_Options_   


"Potter! Thank goodness you are alright," Minerva gasped as she took Harry's face in her hands as if examining him to make sure it was really him. "I was worried sick when I heard what happened."

"Yes, that's all well and good," Severus interrupted. "Why on earth do you want to go to Hogwarts? Are you trying to get yourself killed yet again?"

"We need to get the Diadem of Ravenclaw and destroy it."

Severus scoffed. "The Diadem of Ravenclaw, if it ever existed, has been lost for years, Potter. Surely, you know that. What on earth makes you think it is at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I know that, Professor. But when Ron and I went to see Penelope and she showed us a picture of the Diadem, I realized that I had seen it before. Last year when I hid your old Potions textbook in the Room of Requirement, I used a bust of some old wizard to mark the cupboard where I hid it. I put a wig and a tiara on the bust so I could find it again. It was the same tiara that was on Rowena Ravenclaw's Chocolate Frog Card. The diadem is at Hogwarts. I'm positive."

"Even if you are correct," Snape interjected, "going to Hogwarts would be a suicide mission. Most of the staff is loyal to the Dark Lord. If spotted, we would be killed or turned over to the Dark Lord immediately. Going to Hogwarts would be folly, Potter, trust me when I say that."

"We don't have a choice, Professor Snape," Harry replied, becoming indignant. "If we're going to kill Voldemort, we have to destroy the diadem. I know it's risky, but there's no other option." After a moment of awkward silence, Harry turned to Hermione. "What's your opinion, Hermione?"

A look of concern crossed Hermione's face. She knew that she was treading troublesome waters here and did not want to upset Harry or Severus. She tried to be as delicate as possible. "Well, I think Professor Snape has a point, Harry. We can't rush into Hogwarts without formulating a plan. We need a secure way in and a good exit strategy. We'll have to go eventually, but we need to take our time and figure things out first."

Minerva focused her attention on Harry's face and could tell immediately that the boy was becoming incensed. In an effort to diffuse the situation, she spoke up. "Perhaps a compromise can be reached."

Severus shot his former colleague a suspicious look. "What sort of compromise?"

"It occurs to me," Minerva began, "that I can be of some help after all. It's true that Voldemort's followers have quite a presence at Hogwarts, but I am still a professor and that comes with certain privileges. I'll go back to Hogwarts and begin preparing you a port of entry. When everything is ready, I will contact you and you will come then." She shot a sharp look at Harry before continuing. "But not a moment before I say so. Understood?"

"Understood, professor," Harry replied.

Minerva was thankful to have eased the tension but she was certain the reprieve was temporary as Harry did very little to disguise his annoyance. She then turned to Severus. "And what say you, Severus? Do you find this arrangement agreeable?"

Severus pondered her question for several seconds before responding. "I appreciate your desire to help, Minerva. Really, I do. But this plan would place you in danger, I fear. What if Lucius or one of the other Death Eaters on staff caught you sneaking about?"

"Severus," Minerva began with an expression of sobering resolve, "in a war where so many have died and so many more have put themselves at risk of dying, why should my lot be any different? I am a soldier in this war the same as you. These children are called upon to put their lives on the line before they even begin living. I'm prepared to die for this cause if that's what is required."

Severus understood then that nothing he could say would deter Minerva from her plan and he gave a solemn nod of acquiescence.

In the corner of the room, Harry scratched something on a sheet of parchment before handing it to Minerva. "Take this," he said, "and give it to Kreacher when you get back to school. It's a note telling him to assist you in any way you need. I'm sure Dobby will be willing to help as well."

"Very well then," Minerva said. "I need to be getting back before my absence is noticed."

"Wait," Ron spoke up for the first time since the conversation began. "Professor? How is Ginny?"

"She is as well as can be expected, Mister Weasley. I will make sure to tell her that you send your regards." She shot a look in Harry's direction. "That you all send your regards."

"Here, professor, take this." Hermione extended a gold coin to Minerva, which the elder witch accepted it with a look of confusion on her face. "I have one just like it. We've been using them to communicate. We won't be able to stay in one place, so if you need to meet with us or when you're ready for us to Hogwarts, you can use these to give us the message."

"Very clever, Miss Granger," Minerva said. "I'll keep you updated as much as possible. Goodbye." Minerva nodded once more and disappeared with a crack.

"In the mean time," Hermione began once McGonagall had gone, "we need to focus on destroying the other horcruxes."

"Great plan if we knew where any of the bloody things were," Ron observed.

"Well, Mister Weasley, you are in luck. I happen to know that one of the horcruxes is at the Riddle House."

"The one the Dark Lord kept with him," Hermione added. "It's the cup Lestrange told me about that night at the pub, isn't it?"

Severus nodded. "It was in the room he brought us to for the interrogation. It sat atop a bookshelf along the back wall."

Ron stepped forward only to plop down on the threadbare sofa, sending dust particles flying into the air around him. "It should be destroyed then. That was one of the worst fires I have ever seen."

Severus's cast a withering glance in the redhead's direction. "As violent as it was, I highly doubt the fire destroyed it."

"Professor Snape's right, Ron," Harry added, sounding as though he was devising a plan that very moment. "You remember the time we had trying to kill that stupid locket. We tried everything, even going as far as trying to burn it."

Ron looked unconvinced as he stretched his legs out in front of him. "Even if the fire didn't kill it, who's to say You-Know-Who didn't go back for it before he ran off?"

"He's got a point, Professor," Hermione said, deflated. "The way Lestrange talked about the cup, the Dark Lord kept it by his side all the time. I'm sure he knows what we're up to by now, I can imagine his paranoia has turned into something short of an obsession with keeping the bits of his soul safe."

"There's only one way to find out," Harry said matter-of-factly. "We've got to go back."

"Are you barking mad?" Ron snapped. "We can't go back there, not this soon anyway!"

Severus tried to keep a bland expression on his face as he looked to Harry Potter, seeing shock and then ruffled annoyance. It seemed as though Ronald Weasley had had enough of running head first into a situation without fully thinking the implications through. Severus had to admit it was rather refreshing to see the redhead put the Boy Who Lived in his place for once. Whether or not it would stifle his stubborn nature remained to be seen.

"Well, you can stay here, Ron—"

"And so are you, Harry Potter," Hermione interrupted. "We need a plan—"

Harry spun around to face Hermione, only to find a look of determination on her face. He could tell she was daring him to say otherwise, but he certainly didn't care. They didn't have time for that. "You and your bloody plans, Hermione! When will you realize that nothing we ever plan works? Voldemort's hold grows stronger each day we sit and do nothing!"

"Be that as it may, Ron is right and I'm sure Professor Snape agrees. None of us are in any shape to go back there tonight. If we were to go back, we could very well walk straight into a trap." Hermione reached over to Harry, putting her hands on his shoulders in an effort to calm him. "What good would any of us be then?"

"I've got to finish him, Hermione," Harry said, his anger and impatience evaporating slightly. "I've got to end this."

"I know you do, and you will, I have no doubt," Hermione answered swiftly, realizing she had somehow managed to gain the upper hand. "But, for right now, we need to stop and think."

"Miss Granger is correct," Snape said, looking directly at Harry. "We needn't rush into anything, especially with you in your depleted state. We should wait here until you recuperate."

"I don't need to recuperate. I'm fine," Harry replied, seething.

"Oh really," Snape goaded. "Let's see then."

"Do you want me to run laps around the room or would you prefer I climb to the roof?"

"As entertaining either would be I'm afraid they're not necessary, Potter," Severus replied coolly. "I was not referring to your physical state, but rather the condition of your magic."

"My magic is fine; you needn't trouble yourself over that."

"Actually, mate, your magic is probably a mess," Ron said. "You know magic is tied directly to a wizard's soul. The last time I saw yours, it looked pretty green."

Harry made an agitated face, turning to glare at his friend. "Thanks, Ron, for helping me out. I appreciate it."

"I think a Patronus Charm should do the trick," Severus added. "Casting a corporeal Patronus takes a fair amount of power. If you could do that with considerable ease, as I've been told you can, I should think you would have little difficulty doing anything else."

Harry looked to Hermione, as though she would save him from the two wizards in the room. When she smiled ruefully and handed his wand to him, however, Harry realized in that instance that he was outnumbered. Harry regarded his wand for a moment, before plucking it from her hand.

Hermione watched as he wiped the remnants of dust from its surface. Harry was wasting time, though for what reason she couldn't understand. "Honestly, Harry, just do it. Worst case scenario is that it doesn't work."

"Or he blows himself sky high," said Severus as he watched on with hidden satisfaction. The look Hermione shot in his direction, however, told him to keep such comments to himself—no matter how amusing he found them to be.

"Do you want us to leave the room?" Ron asked.

"Could you shut up, please? I'm trying to concentrate." Harry tightened his grip and pointed his wand down the hallway. Mustering as much focus as he could, he closed his eyes and hoped for the best. "Expecto Patronum!" Silver light shot from the end of Harry's wand, but did not take its usual form of a stag. Instead, the light filled the room, momentarily blinding everyone standing in it. When the light dissipated, Harry was lying prone on the floor.

Ron made his way over to his friend and extended a hand to help him up. "Sorry, mate."

Harry ignored Ron's outstretched hand and made his way to his feet. "Well, I hope you're all happy. Feel free to plan without me, I'm going to bed." Without another word, Harry turned and exited toward the bedroom he had previously been in.

"Awfully early for bed isn't it," Ron offered once Harry was out of earshot.

"In addition to his pride being injured, I'm sure even attempting to cast a spell caused a great deal of fatigue in his weakened state," Snape explained. "Besides, we'll get more planning accomplished without him. He is in no shape to think rationally."

The rest of the night progressed calmly. Severus, Hermione, and Ron discussed their plans over a small dinner. At the end of a few hours of discussion, they had worked out a basic plan. They would wait until Harry was well, which Severus suggested should take a few days. After he was well, they would return to the Riddle House and stake it out to make sure none of the Dark Lord's followers were there. When they were certain the coast was clear, they would search for the cup of Helga Hufflepuff and set about destroying it. Once they were satisfied with their plan, the three of them exchanged good nights and Hermione and Ron withdrew to their respective rooms.

Severus, on the other hand, could not find sleep immediately so he poured himself a drink, plucked a book from the bookshelf and lounged on the sofa. He didn't know if it was the Firewhisky or if he had simply been more tired than he initially realized, but Severus soon found it impossible to keep his increasingly heavy eyelids open. He sat his book and glass down on the table and allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

*****

He could hear a muffled sound somewhere off in the distance. It sounded eerily similar to that of a voice, but the space between him and the sound made it impossible to tell. Severus closed his eyes, focusing on making out the noise.

"Severus!"

Hermione's voice was loud and panicked, and her footfalls echoed off some distance in the darkness behind him. She was running to him. Severus's eyes flew open, and he tried to move toward her pleas for help. He couldn't. He found himself rooted to the ground; it was as though his feet had turned to stone. Severus's hands went immediately to the pockets inside his robes in search of his wand.

"Looking for this?" A cold, unforgiving voice asked from the shadows.

Severus craned his neck, and much to his horror, spotted Lord Voldemort holding his wand in his skeletal-looking hands. The Dark Lord's slender fingers traced over the basket weave detail carved into the hilt for a brief moment before making their ways to each end.

"Wands have always been of great interest to me. What say you, Severus? Does wand lore strike your fancy?"

Severus remained silent as Hermione's voice bounced all around him. She was getting closer as was the Dark Lord.

"You can tell much about a man by the wand he carries. Yours, for instance, is seemingly unpliable, obstinate even." Voldemort demonstrated his theory by carefully attempting to bend the birch wood. It didn't budge. "It is unyielding—just as I once believed you to be."

A young woman's scream erupted once more from the darkness, this time laced with a sob. "Severus, please!"

Severus tried with all of his strength to move his feet, but it was to no avail. He was still planted firmly in place.

"You see," Voldemort said as he circled the struggling wizard, "over time, as the wood ages, it becomes weak as it is weathered by all that is around it, and the core wanes from overuse. No different than the man who carries it, really. And just like a wand, with just the right amount of pressure, a man will shatter to pieces." The Dark Lord brought Snape's wand over his knee, and with a loud snapping noise, it splintered in his hands.

Severus watched with paralyzing horror as Hermione was dragged from the darkness by two hooded figures. "You were supposed to protect me! You promised, Severus," she sobbed. "You promised!"

"You've been making promises you can't keep, it seems." Voldemort said, his voice decidedly different to show his amusement. "Some things never change, and it appears your desire for those unworthy is one of them."

"If you lay a hand on her—" Severus's voice was cut off by the Dark Lord's hand at his throat.

The Dark Lord's grip around Snape's neck tightened with each word. "You'll do what, Severus?"

"I'll fucking finish you," Snape managed to choke out, his breath becoming ragged and labored.

"Just as you vowed to do so long ago?" Voldemort said with a laugh. "How easily you forget the day I crushed your first great love to dust. Where was Lily Potter's vengeance? You are a weak man full of even weaker, empty words."

Voldemort dropped his hand from Snape's neck and Severus released a great. shuddering breath. The Dark Lord turned toward the cloaked figures holding the young witch captive. "Let us see just how much pressure it takes to break a pathetic man. Bring her."

Severus couldn't decide which was louder; Hermione's thrashing to escape or his own voice willing them to stop. "Your Mudblood has yet to know pain, Severus, but I can assure you she will get her fill of it. What fun we shall have this night; you will die with her screams in your ears and your own on your tongue."

The Dark Lord, having grown tired of Hermione's cries, delivered a swift backhand once she was in his range. Hermione's head lolled forward as though she were a rag doll, eliciting jeers from the unknown figures holding her upright. "Such a waste of talent," Voldemort spat. "To be gifted with magic, but have blood that flows as murky as the Thames. There is no greater injustice in this world—except that she still breathes."

The Dark Lord lifted Hermione's head by her hair, but it was not her face Severus saw. Instead, her youthful features took on that of his childhood friend and first love. He fought the desire to look away as Lily's green eyes bore into his. Severus was sure that shade of green that would forever haunt his dreams.

"You are a coward," Lily whispered. "You've always been a coward."

Voldemort turned to Severus, noticing the ghastly pallor of his skin. He looked as though he would be sick at any moment. "Ah, the sting of long lost love. Even those you strive to protect see you for what you are."

"This is not real! She is not here! "

Voldemort motioned for the two hooded individuals to release their hold. The witch fell to the ground on her knees, her gaze turned toward the floor. "Let us see how real you think this is," the Dark wizard said with bitter satisfaction as he turned his wand on the woman at his feet.

The scream that came from the thrashing witch was unlike anything Severus had ever heard. It seemed to pierce through every nerve he possessed, sending shocks of unbridled terror coursing through his veins. When the blood started to trickle from the corners of her mouth, he turned his head, unable to take the sight any longer.

"Of course you look away!" Voldemort taunted. "You look away because you can't bear the sight of her. _Your supposed great love_ and you can't spare her even a look in her last moments. Are you ashamed of your cowardice, Severus? It truly knows no bounds."

The grief he held in his heart suddenly turned to a violent rage. Severus found himself struggling to move once more, and this time, his feet were finally making ground.

The movement did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord. He reached down and grabbed the battered witch from the floor, and when Severus caught sight of her face, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Looking back at him was not Lily Evans, but Hermione Granger, her eyes bloodshot and swollen. The Dark Lord held his wand to her throat. "Could you stand her dirty blood on your hands—to know that your insolence has led to her fleeting soul?"

"Take me instead."

The Dark Lord jerked back on Hermione's hair, exposing her neck further. "Finally, you've decided to grow a backbone. But, you see, I'm afraid it is late in coming."

"What good is she to you?" Severus asked, his tone threatening.

"I must ask you the same thing, Severus. What good is a Muggle-born witch to you?"

The Dark Lord studied the look on Severus's face, before the wand he held was transfigured into a gleaming wicked dagger. "How quaint. You hoped to right twenty years of wrongs using this Mudblood. Her pitiful life won't replace the Potter woman, nor will it clean your slate." Voldemort raised the dagger to Hermione's throat, carefully allowing the pristine blade to scrape the delicate flesh of her neck.

Severus watched as tiny droplets formed at the base of the knife and ran down onto her shirt. "You can seek your revenge through me, please."

The knife faltered at Hermione's throat as a vile smile paid a visit to the Voldemort's lips. "You've lowered yourself to pleading?"

"If that is what it takes." Severus's face was pale as he dropped to the floor in a half-kneeling position before his former master. "I beg you. Spare her."

The Dark Lord cocked his head to the side, as though he was truly giving such a proposal thought. "I think not." With that, the Dark Lord made a violent sweeping motion with his wrist, and Hermione Granger's blood splattered to the ground.

Severus stood stock still as the sight before him seemed to happen in slow motion. Hermione's eyes caught his as she fell to her knees, and the disappointment, the anger, and the betrayal that shone from her glossed eyes was his undoing. He staggered forward, forgetting the Dark Lord's look of satisfaction, sweeping her body in his arms before she could collapse flat on her face.

Severus's hands went to her neck to stifle the bleeding only to realize that she was growing cold. "No, no, NO!"

Severus jumped with a start to find he was not in some desolate, unforgiving place but rather sitting upright in the musty sofa that sat in his living room.

It had all been a bloody dream.

"Fuck," Severus mumbled into his palms as he hunched over with his head in his hands. Wave over wave of nausea rolled over him as his fingers pressed into his eyes, trying to dislodge the image of Hermione bleeding out in his arms from his mind. While his feelings toward the girl were as clear as mud, Severus knew one thing above all the rest, and that was the simple fact that he could not deny that Hermione Granger had managed to scale a wall no one else had been able to breech in nearly twenty years. He tried to act unfazed as he slowly drew himself back upright, his head resting on the back of the chair and his gaze upturned.

No more sleep would come to him tonight, Severus was sure of it. Truthfully, if more dreams of that nature threatened to haunt his sleep, he would never close his eyes again. Even if it wasn't the same nightmare, there would always be another waiting in its place equally terrifying and horrible. Dumbledore, when he was still alive, used to tell Severus his nightmares were of his own doing. _'When you deny or hide from what you feel, Severus,_ " the old man used to say, _'you unwittingly open yourself up to feeling whatever may be troubling you, but only one hundred times worse and over and over again.'_

"You've invited the madness in," Severus scolded himself, finally understanding what the old fool was talking about. He realized he had one of two options. The first, of course, was to allow her in. That option was out of the question considering they were both in the middle of a war that seemed to go on without end. Of course, there was also the fact that she was twenty years his junior and a former pupil. No, that choice was out of the question. The second choice, which seemed to be the most probable route to take, was to ignore whatever was going on between them, and deal with the consequences that arose from pretending something wasn't there. He would take the road that he had traveled many times before. Severus would simply deal with this 'attraction' the only way he knew how, nightmares and inner turmoil be damned.

Knowing he would be unable to find sleep again, Severus made his way into the dark kitchen to prepare a fresh pot of tea. He retrieved his mother's old kettle from the cabinet, filling it with water before he sat it on the cooker. As he turned to retrieve the tea from a tin in the cupboard, his elbow grazed an empty bowl that was sitting on the counter, sending it tumbling to the floor where it broke into dozens of pieces. Frustrated, Severus sat the tea tin he held down on the counter with a clang and went to retrieve his wand from the table in the sitting room to clean up the mess. When he entered the sitting room, however, he was surprised to see Hermione standing at the bottom of the stairs, undoubtedly woken by the noise.

"I thought I heard something," Hermione said as she studied Snape through the darkness.

Severus wondered for a moment what she was looking at, until he remembered he no longer wore the thick wool robes she was so accustomed to. Instead, he stood in a plain white tee shirt, a pair of worn sleep trousers and his sock feet. "That was just me making tea," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as though he were indecent. "No cause for alarm, I can assure you."

"Tea sounds lovely, actually." Hermione smiled before adding, "It's soothing, and I could use it. I'm worn out." Hermione strode past him toward the kitchen.

"That's understandable," Severus said as he followed behind her. For some reason, the thought of her in any type of distress rankled him. "You have been through a lot—"

"We all have," she said as she down in the creaking, wooden chair, leaving the business of tea making to him. "Speaking of which, how are you? I don't think anyone has asked you."

As he made tea, Severus regarded Hermione's reflection in the glass of the overhead cupboards. She wasn't looking at him, instead choosing to fiddle with the end of an unused paper napkin that lay on the table. Something was on her mind; otherwise she wouldn't have resorted to small talk. "I'm well enough," he said as he busied himself with gathering teacups. "And I have been much worse."

Hermione laughed uneasily. "I know. I thought they were going to kill you back there."

Severus ambled over to the table, taking the seat adjacent to Hermione. She finally looked up at him when she heard the weak chair whine under his weight. "It will take a lot more than the Cruciatus Curse to finish me off." Severus felt something similar to a flicker of happiness lurch deep within his gut as he watched the small smile on her face widen to a fully-fledged grin. He thought of the look on her face he had just witnessed in his dreams, and refused to allow such a grotesque expression to mar his image of her.

"So, is this your house?"

The sudden question jerked him from his own mind, and Severus nodded in response. "It belonged to my parents," he replied, looking about the room with a hint of disdain. "It isn't much, but it is home regardless."

"It looks like you never stay here."

Severus frowned, and Hermione wondered for a moment if she had offended him in some way. "Like I said, it isn't much, the neighborhood looks like something out of a Dickens novel, and I find it unpleasant to be here."

Hermione said nothing in response, sensing the subject sat rather sourly with Severus. She brought her feet up in the chair, resting her chin on her knees and stared out into the dimly lit kitchen. "Your mother's name, was it Elieen?"

Severus tried to maintain indifference, but the question had caught him completely off guard. "How do you know that?"

Hermione shrugged. "I looked her up while we were still at Hogwarts—sixth year. She was a Prince wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was," said Severus, clearing his throat.

"I thought so. That's how I eventually traced that Potions book of Harry's back to you; 'The Half-blood Prince.'"

"I suspected he had my old copy. He never showed that much promise during my courses," Severus answered, unsure of where she was headed with her current line of questioning. "Why do you ask?"

Hermione scratched her neck, as though she was considering the best way to broach the subject. "I was just curious. You never mention your family, ever."

"That's because I don't have any," he said flatly as the tea kettle began to sing in protest. He excused himself from the table, secretly thankful that Hermione had been interrupted. He had not opened up to anyone in quite some time, and it left him feeling rather exposed. Severus took his time, hoping Hermione would lose interest in his parentage. After all, it wasn't something he liked to think about let alone discuss.

"I don't mean to intrude," she explained once he had returned to the table. "I was just wondering what you were going to do once this is all over."

"I've never given it much thought, actually," Severus said as he summoned a jar of honey from the pantry and a spoon from the drawer. "I don't expect to see the end of it." Severus's placid expression was met with one of disbelief.

"What? Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it doesn't seem very likely, nor does the current situation swing fate in my favour." Severus started to place a spoonful of honey in the bottom of his empty cup, when her hand took hold of his wrist. Severus felt a lump form in his throat as her grip increased.

"Then you change it so that it does," Hermione said crossly. "You don't let them win. You can't let them win."

Severus stared at the tarnished spoon in his hand as he spoke. "If only it were that easy, Hermione."

"It is that easy," she almost shrieked. "Look at it this way, wouldn't you want me to fight until I couldn't anymore or would you rather I just let them win?"

Severus would never understand how she managed to get inside his head. Perhaps it was her Gryffindor tenacity, thought he couldn't help but fear he was simply that translucent. _Of course I would want you to fight,_ he thought. "You've got something to fight for."

"And you don't?"

It suddenly dawned on him that he had spoken aloud. Severus wrenched his arm from her grasp with his jaw taunt. "Look around you, Hermione—"

"No, you look," she snapped. "When will you see that you are not alone in this, that there are decent people in this world who care for you?"

Severus pinched the tension between his eyes. It did little to quell the pounding in his head. "I wasn't aware I had a fan club."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you daft man, and open your eyes!"

"If you are referring to what I believe you are," Severus said, his voice unbelievably under control given the nausea he felt working its way through him, "you are allowing your emotions to get in the way."

He watched her silently as the color drained from her face, hating himself for lying to her. There was no other way around it. If keeping her at arm's length would keep her away from the Dark Lord, then that was simply the way it had to be.

"You kissed me," she said, her voice nothing short of a whisper. "You kissed me back!"

"I am sorry. That was a lapse of judgment on my part," he lied. "We were thrown together, and we panicked."

"Tell me it was nothing, then," Hermione demanded, her hands clutching the discolored teacup like a lifeline. "Tell me that what happened yesterday was just two people coping with death knocking on their doors."

Severus found himself appalled by how quickly he had been sucked into discussing what had happened at the Riddle House. _So much for option two_ , he thought. "Hermione—"

"Don't, please," she whispered, sensing his apprehension of the subject. "Don't make excuses for my sake, because I wouldn't do that to you."

A horrible silence seemed to engulf them, and for once in his life, Severus could not think of a single thing to say. He sat his teacup down on the table and leaned as far back in his chair as he could manage. He felt himself wanting to slip back inside the desolate hole of himself, away from the pressure of discussing something he truly didn't understand. Severus knew he would never make into the recesses of himself, because the young woman sitting across from him would never allow it.

"I absolutely hate this feeling," Hermione said finally, looking into her lap.

Severus studied her for a moment, noticing her furrowed brow and the slight reddening of her cheeks. She was either uncomfortable or nervous, though he couldn't determine which. "What feeling is that, exactly?"

"Uncertainty," Hermione answered, fidgeting with the handle of the cup. "Everything used to be so effervescent, and I used to think that I understood what I wanted, that I had everything mapped out. The truth is, I have no idea what I want or how everything is going to fall into place, and it scares me."

"War has a way of causing upheaval on a scale few can fathom," he answered.

"I wasn't talking about the war," she sighed, this time meeting his gaze. "I was talking about you."

Severus shifted in his chair as he brought a single hand to cup his chin. He thought he would burst into flames from the intensity in her eyes. She was determined despite his reservations. "I don't know what you want me to say, Hermione."

"I don't want you to say anything, Severus. I just want you to listen to what I have to say, because it's getting to the point where I won't be able keep from saying what's on my mind."

Severus remained passive and, realizing that was her cue to continue, Hermione went on. "I can't deny that I've always had the utmost respect for you. You've saved me—all of us—more times than I can count. Only somebody who thinks of others instead of himself does that, and without question. I… I admire you in more ways than one…" she trailed off, feeling as if she had just broken some untouchable taboo.

Severus's jaw clenched tightly as her words sank it. She had no idea what she was saying, he reasoned; everything that had happened had skewed her image of him. "I am not a good man, Hermione."

"How can you say that?" she asked, taken aback by the bite his words carried.

"I don't have to say anything. My actions speak volumes." Severus pushed away from the table in an effort to escape, going to stand over the sink. As he looked past the dirty window and out into the street he could feel his resolve crumble. He would not let an eighteen-year-old witch be his undoing—no matter what he felt toward her. "I am not good for you."

"You can run from me all you'd like, but that won't change the way I feel toward you."

"What you feel and what you ought to feel are two entirely different things," he said, not daring to turn around to face her.

"You don't think I realize that, Severus Snape?" she said, sounding agitated. "You don't think I've tried to tell myself that it's hopeless to think of you as something other than what you've always been to me?"

"If you've realized that great fact, why are you telling me this?"

"Because that's what people do!" she cried, standing from her spot at the table. "People tell others of their feelings, even if they know doing so could be useless!"

"Is that what you think?" Severus asked, his features stoic as he turned to face her. He hated himself for pushing her away, and he loathed the look of confusion on her face as his tone marred any hope of what she thought might happen between them. But as bad as he hated, Severus knew it was for the best. They were in the middle of a war and sacrifices had to be made, no matter how much it hurt. He wouldn't allow her to become a pawn for the Dark Lord to use, because when kept at arm's length, she was safe.

"It's clear it doesn't matter what I think, but at least you know." Hermione said finally. She was fighting the urge to cry, Severus could tell, and each time she blinked back the tears, it felt as though someone was pouring salt on his wounded conscience. He watched, feuding with himself, as she turned for the door leading out of the kitchen.

"Hermione, wait."

She turned slowly, not bothering to hide her frustration any longer. Her tone, though sad, carried a certain anger to it that would have caused a weaker man to flinch. "What?"

"You must understand," he began, haltingly at first, then with much greater ease, "I can't."

"I don't understand, Severus. What happened yesterday didn't seem as though you couldn't. But what do I know? I'm just a stupid girl with stupid feelings I ought not have ."

He crossed the distance between them and Hermione had little time to prepare herself when he took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You are hardly stupid, and no feeling is stupid, though they can certainly make you feel as if you are. Believe me," Severus said, "I know."

"I thought you were incapable of feeling anything?" she said with an air of defiance in her voice. She was testing him, Severus realized, and for some reason beyond his control, she was quickly gaining the upper hand.

"Such is the rumor," Severus replied softly, feeling his resolve leave him altogether.

"Well, I don't believe that."

"You don't?"

"Not for a second." Hermione placed a hand on Severus's cheek and pulled his face toward hers. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips against his. For a second, he froze, mostly from shock, and then allowed instinct to take over. Severus's hands found the small of Hermione's back and pulled her close. They had kissed before, but this was different. Gone was the uncertainty of whether they would live to see each other again. There was no fear in this kiss. This kiss wasn't by accident or a fumbling, last-second decision to cling to something worth holding onto. This was hope, Severus realized, as he felt Hermione's lips graze his bottom lip. This was his second chance, and regardless of the reservations he felt, he refused to let it slip through his fingers.

Moving his hand that had found its way in her curls, Severus lifted her easily enough and sat her on the nearby table to compensate for their differing heights. Her empty teacup, jostled by their movements, fell to the floor where it shattered, unnoticed. Her fingers, though they quivered, traced over the thin fabric of the shirt he wore. When her fingers discovered the sensitive spot just below his collar-bone, a deep guttural noise erupted from his lips and, fearing she had overstepped some unknown boundary, Hermione broke their connection to get a good look at his face.

Severus's expression was unreadable, but his eyes gave him away. Hermione was heady from his proximity and thought her heart might literally explode in her chest given the way he looked at her, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. Instead, with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, she grasped the fabric of his shirt and pulled him toward her, allowing him to take the space between her legs. Severus had little time to hesitate as his hands traveled up her back, inadvertently pushing the fabric of her nightshirt up as they went.

Hermione shivered when the cold air of the kitchen hit her skin, and he could feel the gooseflesh under his touch. That was the only thing that reminded him that this what he was doing was truly happening. He had never allowed himself to be consumed by such a soul-searing kiss, and he was sure things could easily get out of hand right there on his kitchen table. If he was being honest with himself, Severus wouldn't have cared in the least, but he was fairly certain the two sleeping wizards just upstairs would have had a few choice words about their activities.

Severus pulled away, for fear of being unable stop himself if they continued any further. Once free from his hold, Hermione realized her shirt was nearly off and tugged it down anxiously. Things were clearly heading in a direction she knew little to nothing about and, for an instant, she felt vastly inadequate.

Tight-chested and trembling, Hermione leaned back as she dropped her hand from his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, her eyes on his heaving chest. "I shouldn't have done that."

Severus said nothing as he focused his gaze on the wall directly behind her curly hair. He realized he was experiencing an apprehension he had never quite overcome, but to say that he was well-versed in areas of human nature such as this was laughable. He honestly had no idea how to handle himself in this situation because it was completely foreign.

"You should go to bed," said Severus, hearing a heavy rasp that had found its way to his voice. He wondered if she had heard it too, as he brushed a strand of her unruly hair behind her ear, feeling the flush of her skin under his touch. She would be the death of him, Severus was sure, but if more of _that_ was in store, he had already decided that he would happily die.

"Goodnight," Hermione whispered as she lowered herself from the table's surface, praying she still had the facilities intact to make it upstairs in one piece. She would be lucky if sleep found her following what they had just done.

Severus watched Hermione flee from the room, remembering how her lips had just moved passionately over his, urging them apart. When he heard the bookcase snap shut, covering the entrance to the stairwell, Severus finally released the air that had been trapped in his lungs. He was angry at himself and uncomfortably aroused.

"So much for option two indeed," he said, raking a hand through his disheveled hair.

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Author's Notes: Happy reading to you all, and as always, your reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated.


	26. The Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How is your arm," the elder Malfoy asked his son as the pair made their way up the long, snow-covered drive leading to Malfoy Manor. Lucius held out his hand, motioning for Draco to show him his affliction.
> 
> "It bloody well hurts," Draco replied as he gazed down at the patch of burnt flesh on his right forearm. Draco's sleeve had been singed off his arm, along with most of the fine blond hairs. Blisters, ugly and festering, had already started to rise from the reddened flesh, making the injury even more uncomfortable. "Stupid house elves. If I ever get my hands on them—"

 

 

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 25**

**The Flight**

"How is your arm," the elder Malfoy asked his son as the pair made their way up the long, snow-covered drive leading to Malfoy Manor. Lucius held out his hand, motioning for Draco to show him his affliction.

"It bloody well hurts," Draco replied as he gazed down at the patch of burnt flesh on his right forearm. Draco's sleeve had been singed off his arm, along with most of the fine blond hairs. Blisters, ugly and festering, had already started to rise from the reddened flesh, making the injury even more uncomfortable. "Stupid house elves. If I ever get my hands on them—"

"Now, now Draco," Lucius scolded. "There are far more pressing issues than exacting revenge on house elves – finding your lovely aunt, for instance."

"Bloody coward, where the hell is she? She should have gone to the Dark Lord after she and Dolohov finished off Snape and Potter's miserable friends. I bet she bungled it up and made a mess of things. That's why she's hiding."

"You may be right," Lucius conceded. "Just the same, our orders from the Dark Lord are to find her and bring her to him, so that's what we must do."

The Malfoy men then remained silent for the moments it took them to reach the door to their home. Lucius opened the door to find his house elf busy polishing a silver tea set. "Sozi! Where is Narcissa?"

The house elf was so startled by his master's voice that he dropped the silver teacup he had been polishing to the floor with a clang. "Sozi is so sorry, Master Malfoy. Sozi will punish himself for that. Mistress Malfoy is in the library with Madam Lestrange."

A look of shock crossed Lucius's face. "Bellatrix is here? Are you certain?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy, Sozi is quite sure. Madam Lestrange arrived earlier this morning. She has been talking to Mistress Malfoy ever since."

"Very good," Lucius said with a slight smile as he turned to make his way toward the library, Draco in tow. As his masters walked away, Sozi began furiously beating his head against the hard, stone wall.

Lucius opened the door to the library and saw that the house elf's report had been true. There were Narcissa and Bellatrix sitting in a pair of wingback chairs clearly engrossed in an intense discussion. He cleared his throat. "Bellatrix, how fortunate to run into you here. It is nice of you to save me the trouble of searching for you."

"Lucius, Draco," Narcissa exclaimed as she rose from her seat to embrace her husband and son. "I nearly worried myself sick over the two of you! Are you alright?"

"No, I nearly got my arm burned off by Potter's stupid elves," Draco complained as he held his damaged arm up for his mother to examine.

"How did this happen?"

"Draco is fine, Narcissa," said Lucius, flatly. "The more pressing matter is your sister's presence in our home."

Lucius looked to Bellatrix with contempt. "You surely know, Bella, that the Dark Lord is most concerned as to your whereabouts. He expected you and Antonin to report back to him as soon as you finished the task given to you."

"Dolohov is dead, Lucius," Bellatrix snarled. "The poor, weak bastard got his neck snapped by Snape. I saw it happen. As for me, I nearly burned up in the fire because your idiot son couldn't take care of a couple of elves!"

Draco started toward his aunt, a look of angry disgust on his face but was stopped by his father's outstretched arm. "Surely you're not telling me that Severus and Potter's friends were not taken care of?" Bellatrix did not reply, but Lucius could tell from the seething glare she gave him that he was right. "Nevertheless, you must come with me at once to see the Dark Lord."

"You know full-well I can't do that. I'll be killed for failing him!"

Lucius's face twisted with annoyance. "And what do you suppose he'll do to me if I fail to bring you in, Bella? Besides, Harry Potter is dead. That satisfaction will likely curb his appetite for death if you do a sufficient amount of groveling."

Bellatrix shot a look of concern toward her sister. Narcissa responded with a nod at which her sister began speaking once more. "That's what you don't understand, Lucius. Harry Potter is not dead. After the Dark Lord disappeared the wretched boy moved!"

"That's impossible," Lucius protested. "The Dark Lord hit him squarely with the Killing Curse. We both witnessed it. There's no way Potter survived. Absolutely no way!"

"He survived it once before," Narcissa interjected. "What makes it so hard to believe that he could do so again? Bella swears that she saw Potter move and I, for one, believe her."

Lucius let out a sigh of frustration. He turned away from the others and began to prepare himself a drink from the bar cart. As he poured some Ogden's Old into a small glass, he pondered what his next move would be. He had to take Bellatrix back to Voldemort or he and his family would be severely punished. On the other hand, Bellatrix was his wife's sister and she was right, Voldemort would likely kill her for her insolence in fleeing the Riddle house with her task unfinished. At the very least he would torture her. Lucius did not want that, as Narcissa would likely do something to prevent it. However, he could not risk any harm coming to Narcissa or Draco. "Bellatrix, I have my orders and I am not prepared to disobey them. I cannot risk putting my family in danger by failing"

Lucius turned around to find his sister-in-law's wand pointed squarely between his eyes. "You're a bloody fucking fool, Lucius, if you think I'll let you do that. iFlipendo!/i" A burst of orange light shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand, sending the blond wizard tumbling backward. Lucius hit the wall with a thud, tipping over the bar cart and soaking his parlor floor with liquor in the process.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," Draco shouted as he brandished his wand. Before the young wizard could do any damage his wand was ripped from his grasp by a silent disarming spell. He watched, speechless as it flew end over end and finally clattered to the floor at his aunt's feet.

Narcissa looked on, horror-struck. "Bellatrix, that's enough!"

"Sorry,  _dearest_ , but I won't be going to the Dark Lord without Potter's head on spike." Another blast of orange light came from Bellatrix's wand, knocking her nephew to the floor. Draco's landing was no gentler than his father's and both of them lay unconscious, their clothes becoming sodden from the vintage Firewhisky.

Narcissa suddenly found herself filled with fury, and as her hand dithered on the hilt of her wand, Bellatrix gave her an ultimatum. "Cissy, I will not go to the Dark Lord, not until I have found Potter so that I can deliver him. Now, you can come with me and help like we discussed, or you can join your upstanding gentlemen, and maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord will spare the three of you if he finds out."

Narcissa cast an angry glare at her sister. Bellatrix had done her no favors by coming into her home and sharing the information that Potter was alive. She did not deserve any help as far as Narcissa was concerned. Moreover, if Bellatrix hadn't been family, she would have taken her right to the Dark Lord herself. But she was her sister and, as foolish and reckless as Bella had been, Narcissa could not bear the thought of her being killed by the Dark Lord. "Fine. I will go with you, but you must help me first. Lucius and Draco can have no memory of seeing you here, else the Dark Lord will take out his fury for you on them. We must erase the memory from their minds before we leave."

The Dark witch rolled her eyes. "Very well. Then we leave and put all of this right." Bellatrix shoved past her sister as she walked over to Lucius's unconscious body and performed a memory charm. Narcissa did the same for Draco, and planted a kiss on his forehead before following Bellatrix out of the parlor.

The two sisters walked down the dark hall, passing the house-elf as they went. "You are not to tell Lucius or Draco where we've gone, Sozi," Narcissa ordered. "They should not ask, because they'll have no memory of seeing us, but if for some reason they do, you are to lie."

For a moment, the house-elf looked as though Narcissa had just asked him to drag the moon down from the sky. His gigantic eyes bulged dangerously from his tiny head as if they were about to pop out of his skull and roll across the floor. Lying to Lucius and Draco went against everything the poor elf had known, but all it took was Bellatrix flashing him a glimpse of her dagger to change his mind.

"If we're found, you little monkey; I'll be wearing your useless hide as leather," Bellatrix warned, running her hand back and forth across the knife's quillon. "Now, run along and clean up my mess."

The elf looked to his mistress and her unruly guest and then disappeared with a snap of his skinny fingers, leaving the two sisters standing alone by the front door.

Bellatrix reached for Narcissa's arm, intertwining it with hers. "Do try to look more excited, Cissy. We're saving our own arses, after all."

Narcissa frowned deeply, elongating the lines on her face that showed her age. Sometimes she really despised Bellatrix, but she could not deny the truth in her words. As the two of them Disapparated, Narcissa's nails dug into her sister's hand, and as she felt herself been pulled from every direction and flattened, she thought of how she would repay Bellatrix when the time came.

* * *

The sun had yet to rise over the mill standing in the center of Spinner's End, but Severus found himself sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hand. Sleep deprived and basically worn into the ground, he stared down at his empty teacup, his mind trying to focus on anything but what had happened just hours before in the very room he couldn't bring himself to leave. Sitting alone in his dark kitchen for hours had been sobering, and as much as Severus hated to admit it, he realised he had made a mistake.

Severus took a deep breath, his free hand tracing the rim of the cracked cup as he remembered how he had given into his desire for someone who deserved more than he could ever give. That was typical Severus Snape behavior, he mused with a considerable amount of disgust. It had always been and would always be the same. Whenever anyone paid him the slightest bit of mind or showed any interest in him at all, he was more concerned about the whys of it all than accepting it. Of course, in this particular case, he simply could not wrap his mind around the whys.

He had nearly twenty years on Hermione Granger, and that fact alone was enough to sway him. Younger, and with the promise of a bright future ahead of her, she was off limits to him. Truthfully, Severus found it unfathomable that she would even consider initiating any sort of contact with him other than being polite for the sake of courtesy. The word "relationship" flashed across his subconscious as if it were illuminated like a gaudy Muggle neon sign. He quickly doused that hopeless spark with reason before it could turn into an uncontrollable blaze. That would never happen.

Never.

And he would see to it. She had her entire life to live, and being associated with someone who was not only twenty years her senior but a former Death Eater would hardly be conducive to her living whatever dreams she had. However, given her actions just a few hours before, it was clear Hermione didn't care about any of that, but that didn't matter. He would have to make her see that something more between them would never work. Severus pushed back the image of the expression that would, no doubt, be present on Hermione's face when he told her once and for all that her feelings could not be reciprocated.

Severus sighed, brushing his calloused hands across his stubble ridden face. He suspected it wouldn't be much different from the one he saw previous night when he tried to push her away—her fresh face placid, though her glistening, tear-filled eyes threatened to betray her. Hermione might not be able to see it now, and she would mostly likely be adamant in proving him wrong, but nothing would become of whatever was happening between them.

"Morning."

Severus looked up with a start, annoyed at the throbbing redness creeping across his face. Standing in the doorway was the object of his thoughts. The smile on Hermione's face faltered briefly when she saw his agitated expression, but it did little to deter her from taking the seat next to him. Severus felt himself tense when he caught a whiff of the clean scent of her impossible hair, and before his mind could travel back to the memory of his hands becoming tangled in the thick curls, he excused himself from the table in search of more tea.

"You're up early," she said sleepily, watching him as he retreated.

Severus regarded her out of the corner of his eye while he tended to his tea. She sat, slumped in her chair, with dark circles under her bloodshot eyes that seemed to wash the colour from her face.  _Sleep must have eluded her as well_ , he thought as he poured a cup of tepid tea for her and another for himself. Looking down at the tea, Severus felt himself frown. He couldn't determine if his aggravation was from the lack of steam rising up from the brown liquid or the fact that he couldn't quite figure out what to say to her, but he could, at least, absolve the former.

He cradled the first cup in his hands, feeling the temperature increase as he muttered the heating charm before doing the same to the other. He could feel Hermione's watchful eyes on his back, which made it rather difficult for him not to overdo it. Second later, with half-steaming, half-boiling cups in hand, he strode back over to the table where he carefully placed one in front of Hermione.

Severus sat down in the seat furthest from her in an attempt to keep some distance between them. "I could say the same for you."

Hermione shrugged, taking a small sip of her scalding tea, but never offered to say anything further. Severus blinked at her; nonplussed by her sudden silence. Apparently, he wasn't the only one feeling the uncomforting affects of their almost-tryst, which served to only make him feel more apprehension about broaching the subject. Even though they were no more than three feet from one another, the distance between them seem to stretch out for miles.

Hermione swirled her drink absentmindedly, and Severus noticed something pass over her tired face. Dread, possibly, or embarrassment? It was hard to tell considering she wouldn't really look him in the eye. He wondered briefly if he should ask what was on her mind, but decided against taking that leap. Deep down, Severus knew that sort of leap would most likely result in him falling flat on his face, or making it worse.

Instead, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his sleeping pants, and settled more comfortably into the hard chair. Overhead, the floorboard creaked as someone one walked across them. Severus was secretly thankful he wouldn't have to be alone with her for an extended period of time even though a very tiny part of him felt a twinge of melancholy.  _This is how it has to be_ , he thought to himself.  _This_ _is the only way it can be_.

"That'll be the boys," Hermione said, her eyes following the noise. She took a long drink from her cup, draining it entirely. "Are you hungry? I'm sure they'll be. "

Severus, who was mid sip, looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his cup with, his lip curling upward. At least she was speaking to him despite sticking to the more mundane topics of conversation. "Are you offering?"

"Seeing as this is your kitchen," Hermione began, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I was hoping you'd be interested in helping me at least find what I need."

Severus could see the request for what is was, just as he could see every pot and pan his mother had ever owned sitting behind the glass panes of the cabinets. Hermione didn't need his help anymore than he needed to oblige, but Severus couldn't have stopped himself had he wanted to as he stood and followed her into the panty in search of something edible.

The pantry itself was well-stocked, making the space far too cramped for one person, let alone two. The previous night, Severus had ventured out alone to a small shop near the edge of Cokeworth to purchase enough food to last them for a few weeks. Tins of glazed biscuits and other packaged goods glistened under the lone, naked bulb that hung overhead, and the sweet smell of the few fresh fruits and vegetables he was able to acquire lingered through the air. Oddly enough, Severus mused as he watched Hermione peruse the group's stockpile, the old house finally felt like a home he wouldn't object coming to once the war ended.

"We've got a tin of kippers to go with the toast," Hermione said, standing on the tips of her toes to reach the package.

Severus shook his head, making a disgusted face. The small, smoked fish had never been appealing to him, but had seen his three guests eat them on occasion in the Great Hall before they went into hiding. "That would not be my first choice. Perhaps something that doesn't stare at me while I eat it."

Hermione laughed, placing the tin of split fish back on the shelf. She turned around much too quickly on the small stepping stool, and her bare foot jutted out in the air to help maintain her balance as two of the stool's stubby wooden legs went airborne. In that moment, everything seemed to happen so suddenly.

Hermione's wide eyes were full of the realization that she was falling and there was nothing she could do but hit the ground. Severus rushed forward, hardly aware of his own movements, just in time to have a curly head of hair crash into his chest. He caught one of her hands in his and his other snaked its way around her small waist to steady her. They both staggered backwards from the velocity until Severus's back hit the doorframe.

The subtle thud that rang through his head told him that Hermione's feet hit the floor instead of her head, but it was her small frame pressing him into the door that shocked him back into the present. Severus cleared his throat awkwardly, but couldn't bring himself to let her go.

Hermione looked up at him, red-faced, and then away quickly. She was embarrassed, that much was easy to tell, but there was also something else hiding in her eyes. Severus realised that she, too, had felt the same searing jolt when they touched. Anxiety churned, heavy and strong, in his stomach as she stepped away from him.

"Thank you."

The breathless edge of her voice sent Severus's mind spiraling back to the previous night, and he had to look away before he did something ill-advised, like bring it up. "You're welcome," he said instead, hearing the vacant tone in of his words.

When he turned for the kitchen, Severus saw Hermione rummaging through the ancient refrigerator as though nothing had happened. When she emerged, she was holding a container of eggs in one hand and stick of butter in the other. Hermione shut the door with her hip before placing the ingredients on the nearby counter. "How do you feel about eggs in the basket?"

"Much better," Severus said with a nod as he went to work gathering the rest of what they would need. Cooking, in Severus's opinion, wasn't much different from brewing. The task required a certain amount of skill that couldn't be taught, and, much like brewing, it was easy to lose one's self in the work. And that was exactly what he needed.

The two of them worked in agreed silence, moving about the kitchen and each other like a well-oiled machine. Severus was always mindful of where Hermione was, and he paid careful attention not to touch her as they shared the work space. She seemed to do the same, though she would occasionally flash a brilliant smile in his direction, or offer him a fork full of something to taste. He could handle this, and the longer he was around her, the more he believed that he could. Severus would have to work harder at keeping his mind from running off in directions it ought not to go. And how hard could that possibly be?

Feeling much more confident about his situation, Severus realised he was willing to accept this mutual friendship they seemed to share instead of pushing her away entirely—as long as it didn't progress beyond precisely that. Severus valued the common ground they had developed over the course of several weeks, and he couldn't stand the thought of anything, even his senseless, misplaced pull toward to her, jeopardizing that.

Nearly half an hour later, they stood in the middle of the now stuffy kitchen admiring the impressive spread they had worked together to create. The eggies in the basket, as Hermione called them, were piled high on a faded blue serving platter, golden brown from the butter. Sitting alongside the towering stack of bread and eggs, was a small dish nearly overflowing with crisp bacon. Some pieces, having just been brought off the cooker, still sizzled. Then, of course, there was the fresh tea kettle of breakfast tea.

"We didn't do half bad," Hermione observed, nudging Severus in the ribs with her elbow.

Severus handed Hermione an empty plate. "Not bad at all. You best get what you want before your red-headed friend makes an appearance. I suspect the food won't last long once he shows himself."

After their plates were filled, they moved back to the table, this time Severus taking the seat directly next to Hermione. She didn't seem nearly as distant now, which relieved him beyond belief. As they ate, the two of them talked about nothing in particular, but the conversation seemed to change at least half a dozen times. Severus found himself becoming wrapped up in the stories she told about her childhood, and much to his surprise, found him sharing a few stories of his own. It was easy to talk to her, he discovered, because Hermione knew when to press for more information and when to keep her mouth closed.

Unfortunately, their pleasant conversation was soon interrupted by Ron lumbering sleepily down the stairs, his heavy steps making the floorboards creak as he walked. He appeared in the kitchen door, scratching the back of his head and still in his night clothes.

"Having a bit of a lie-in are we?" Hermione teased as she handed him a plate full of food. "I was wondering when the two of you were going to emerge."

Ron stared at the plate in his hand, and then around the room with confused look on his face. He blinked heavily, as though trying to make sense of the two of them sitting together at the table. "Wait. You haven't seen Harry?"

The bite of toast on the end of Severus's fork never made it to his mouth. He sat, openmouthed, trying to make sense of what the redhead was saying. He and Hermione hadn't seen Potter since last night. The house was secret-kept and only the four of them knew of its location. That meant only one thing.

Severus stood abruptly, feeling a sudden sense of alarm rise up in him. "He's not with you?"

"He was asleep when I went to bed last night," Ron said, shaking his head. Severus walked past him, heading straight for the second floor, Hermione trailing behind him like a shadow. "He's not upstairs, I checked all the—."

A loud bang caused Ron's words to wither on his tongue. He hurried into the sitting room to see the bookcase pushed aside, and noticed Severus and Hermione were taking the stairs two at time leading up to the second floor. By the time he reached the top floor landing, Snape and Hermione had just exited one of the rooms and was heading for another.

"I told you he's not up here," said Ron. "I've looked in every room."

Severus stopped in front of the bathroom door, his hand twisting the tarnished handle. It was locked. "Did you think to check this door?" His tone had suddenly switched from inquiry to accusation.

"I knocked, but no one answered me," Ron bit back, defiant. "See for yourself if you don't believe me!"

Hermione pushed past the squabbling wizards, pulling her wand from the knot she had tied in her hair and approached the closed bathroom door. She knocked quite forcefully several times, and waited for the slightest hint of life on the other side. She could hear nothing but her heart beating in her ears. She stepped back with a look of determination on her face, and then pointed her wand at the door.

" _Alohomora!_ " A faint yellow light flew from the tip of her wand, hitting the key hole, and moments later, the grinding sound of the mechanical lock opening filled the narrow hall. The door swung open as thought it had a mind of its own, revealing the modest but tidy loo in the early morning light.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except the agonizingly cold blast of winter air that shot past them and down the hall. Three sets of eyes peered through the door to spot the window standing open, allowing bits of powdered snow to cascade through to the tiled floor.

"The bloody idiot! If he's not dead when we find him, I'm going to kill him myself," Ron seethed, looking at the moth-eaten window dressing blowing in frigid winter wind.

Hermione suddenly looked panicked. "Where could you think he could've gone?"

"He's gone after the cup, obviously," Severus answered, turning for his own room. "Get yourselves together; we're leaving in five minutes."

* * *

Author's Notes:

Whew! Almost three months without an update! Now that my summer holiday has started, it won't be nearly as long (Translation: Chapter 27 is nearly finished and will be posted next weekend). Also, I am pleased to tell you that I haven't been sitting on my derriere this entire time. I've actually just finished a brand new story that will start posting to this archive on or around July 31st. Stay tuned, because I don't think you'll want to miss it.

Thanks again to all of those who not only read, but also take the time to review. It's a pleasure to hear from each one of you. Your thoughts mean the word to me, and I appreciate every word! Happy reading!


	27. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry knew he wouldn't be able to hide his absence for long. He had slipped, or rather fallen, out of the second story loo window, nearly breaking his neck in the process. Thankfully, the large rubbish bins that were conveniently overflowing beneath the window provided a bit of cushion between him and the frozen ground. Harry landed just as one might expect when leaping from a second story windowsill—hard enough to make him wish he had tried his luck with the front door, yet soft enough to leave himself in one battered but hardly broken piece.

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Cat and Mouse

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to hide his absence for long. He had slipped, or rather fallen, out of the second story loo window, nearly breaking his neck in the process. Thankfully, the large rubbish bins that were conveniently overflowing beneath the window provided a bit of cushion between him and the frozen ground. Harry landed just as one might expect when leaping from a second story windowsill—hard enough to make him wish he had tried his luck with the front door, yet soft enough to leave himself in one battered but hardly broken piece. There was no denying he would be feeling the effects of the what he guessed to be an almost ten foot fall as he scuttled down the narrow alley between the identical looking homes and down the dirty street called Spinner's End.

The street, though dilapidated, still played host to several inhabitants, and soon they would be emerging from their homes. This thought occurred to Harry as the morning sun had just started to show faint slivers of itself over the grayed horizon. He stopped in front of an abandoned home not much different than Snape's, and carefully squeezed himself through a broken front window. The inside, mold-ridden and dark, was hardly welcoming, but it would serve its purpose.

Once inside and fully concealed from any prying eyes, Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself. He felt the magic start at the top of his head and glide down him like a second skin. It wasn't as effective as his invisibility cloak, but the charm was the easier alternative. He shuddered to think what Hermione would have done to him had she discovered that he was rummaging around in her beaded bag.

Rendered almost completely invisible, Harry waved his hand in front of his face noticing only a faint outline. His powers were still weak, but they would suffice for what he had to do, and that was finding the Horcrux at the Riddle House. He thought, as he made his way carefully around the broken glass of the window and onto the street, of what his three sleeping companions would do when they noticed he wasn't tucked away in his bed. Anger was likely to flare up in each of them followed soon after by panic. Harry could handle that, and he would take their verbal lashing without complaint. What he couldn't handle, however, was allowing them to put themselves in danger doing something that was ultimately left up to him. It didn't matter how many times Ron and Hermione told him that he wasn't alone in his task, or how many times they refused to leave him. All that mattered was keeping them safe while trying to finish the task Dumbledore had given him.

Outside, Harry pulled his worn sweater around him to block the fast-falling snow and chill. He hated that sweater. It reminded him of everything Voldemort had taken from him and everything the madman still wanted. As his invisible hand touched the rough, knotted wool, he thought of the countless nights in cold forests and the gnawing hunger that never truly went away. Then, of course, there were stains dotting the sleeves and the cuffs from Hermione's tears and his own when Ron had left them out of rage that was fueled by a fragment of Voldemort's soul. They were all stretched nearly as thin as the sweater covering his body. It seemed silly to hate an inanimate object, but in a sense, Harry felt as though he would only be finished with the Dark Lord when he could shed the old garment the same way a snake sheds its skin and return to what would hopefully be a normal existence. Harry scoffed, his breath coming out in white wisps. The Chosen One would never have a normal existence.

That thought in mind, Harry Disapparated to the hillside overlooking the village of Little Hangleton. The sun had already risen above the horizon, painting the countryside in early morning colours. It would have been a breathtaking sight to behold had it not been for the charred, skeletal remains of the Riddle House sitting on the opposite side of the valley. It was an ugly mess marring what would have been a remarkable, picturesque landscape scene. Smoke rose, black and thick, into the sky, emitting the fetid smell of burned wood. The stench had reached Harry's nose in half a heartbeat, and even though he was standing on the other side of the valley, it was almost overwhelming.

After recasting the Disillusionment Charm for safe measure, Harry started walking down the hill and toward the burned remains of Lord Voldemort's former hideout. By rather happy chance, he found himself only a few hundred feet up the side of the hill, which made for a small commute through the heart of the village. The townsfolk were only just becoming aware of the overnight blaze that had destroyed the most prominent and most feared residence in Little Hangleton. Harry passed two men talking in hushed tones, but it wasn't hard to guess the nature of the rumors they were already spreading.

The once-sprawling manor had become infamous since the Riddle murders, and as such, many of the town's inhabitants refused to go near it. They spun intricate tales about the house's dark and mysterious history when it became the topic of discussion, but otherwise pretended it didn't exist. iOut of sight out of mind,/i Harry mused to himself. The poor souls didn't realize how lucky they were, nor did they have the slightest hint of the evil that had set foot across the now-destroyed threshold. Still, their superstitions would ultimately work to Harry's advantage. He was sure he would be left alone long enough to find what he needed and leave before anyone became any wiser.

Harry continued his stealthily silent walk through the cobblestoned streets, and then headed down the concealed lane leading to the Little Hangleton graveyard. Venturing through it for the second time in twenty-four hours, Harry noted that the graveyard looked even more ominous in the light. There were no shadows to hide the reminders that brought forth the memories he had tried time and again to forget. He weaved his way through the weathered headstones, not daring to look at any of them directly. Instead, he concentrated on the soggy noise his shoes made as they trudged over the sodden, muddy ground, and up the embankment.

A grey drizzle lingered overhead, no doubt left behind from a passing winter shower. Harry wasn't sure what he would have done had snow covered the ground, but he was thankful nonetheless. The slipperiness of the hillside was hard enough to deal with; hiding one's tracks in the snow would have been an entirely different story. Realising how lucky he was, Harry continued toward his destination.

What was left of the Riddle House sat almost adjacent to the graveyard, though slightly higher on the slope. Harry smelled the remains much more prominently now, and could even feel the slight warmth that hung awkwardly in the air. Once he passed the stone wall the house shared with the graveyard, he would be able to see the damage done more clearly, and hopefully start sifting through the debris for Helga Hufflepuff's goblet.

"I don't understand why you've brought us here! It's almost as if you want to get us caught!"

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. He recognized the voice, but given his current location, there was no way to tell who Narcissa Malfoy was speaking to. He dropped immediately to his knees and crawled to the end of the stone wall only to see the wild, dark hair belonging to an even wilder and darker witch. Bellatrix Lestrange paced back and forth in front of Narcissa, as though she were deep in thought.

"We shouldn't be here, Bella! If the Dark Lord—"

"No!" Bellatrix was shaking her head frantically, and Harry didn't have to see her face to know she was close to hysterics. "I have to find the trail. It's the only way to trace him, Cissy!"

Narcissa looked stricken, but conceded, realising it was no use to fight with her sister. It was going to be Bellatrix's way regardless of the consequences. "Then find it."

Bellatrix stepped hurriedly over the mangled beams, looking very intently at every ruined detail. Everything looked the same - black and scorched. It was hard to tell where one piece of debris began and another ended. Even still, she continued to look for something as though her life depended on it. At the present moment, of course, Harry didn't realise how true that was. He inched closer to the two witches, fearing the two of them were hunting for the same thing. Knowing he was treading a knife's edge by venturing so close, Harry couldn't help himself as he watched the Black sisters through a crevice in the wall.

Bellatrix turned around a few times before setting her sights on a lone chimney standing in the middle of the wreckage. "This is where the parlor door should be. I'm sure of it." She turned around again, taking calculated steps toward a rather large mound of wasted wood. Suddenly she froze, wielding her wand at something in front of her—directly where Harry was hiding.

Harry's heart stopped for a fraction of a second, but before he could force himself to move, he saw something grey emerge from the rubble. The oddly shaped object was streaked with bits of ash and dirt, but there was no mistaking what it was.

"And this would be Dolohov, or rather what's left of him." Bellatrix sounded bored as she studied the human skull with forced interest. Just when Harry thought he saw a hint of remorse creep across her face, Bellatrix let the skull fall to her feet, and she stepped over it as though it were just another ruined part of the house. "Serves him right, the fucking tosspot."

What was left of Antonin Dolohov rolled down the board it had landed on and nearly over the toe of Narcissa's boot. The blonde witch kicked it away with a squeal of disgust, watching as it soared through the air before finally landing face-side-down in a puddle of water. "Damn you, Bellatrix!"

Rather than apologize, Bellatrix cackled and resumed her search as though nothing had happened. Moments later, Harry watched as she cleared a spot on what was left of the foundation. Bellatrix regarded the burnt patch of wood and singed carpet as though it were a crystal ball waiting to spill the details of her future. "Potter was right here before the Mudblood grabbed him and Disapparated."

Narcissa looked hopeful, but hardly convinced. Unlike Bellatrix, who stared down confidently at the burned space, Narcissa's gaze carried a sense of reproach. Harry wondered briefly why she was even there, given her lack of excitement over the spot where he had supposedly died.

"Once you figure out where the boy was taken, how do you expect to find him? If he's alive, as you said, Severus will have taken every precaution to keep him hidden."

"He  _is_  alive, Narcissa," Bellatrix snapped. "And Severus isn't as careful as he would lead you to believe. There will always be ways to find that which people wish to remain hidden. Harry Potter is no different."

Harry felt the air being sucked out of his lungs, and it was all he could do not to hyperventilate on the spot. Bellatrix Lestrange knew he was alive which meant Voldemort knew by extension. He backed away from the edge of the wall quickly, never noticing the stone at the top of the wall that leaned precariously to one side. All it took was one misplaced movement of his shoulder and the stone was sent plummeting to the ground. It landed with a splash in the shallow puddle that had formed near the base of the wall. There was no way the two witches standing fifty feet away could not have heard it, and their sudden silence confirmed as much.

* * *

"He's gone after the cup, obviously," Severus answered, turning for his own room. "Get yourselves together; we're leaving in five minutes."

Hermione was only vaguely aware of Severus's voice as she stood, glaring at the opened window. Harry Potter had done a lot of foolhardy things since she had known him, but this was the card that trumped everything. His near-death experience had not only left him weak, but even more determined to put an end to the Dark Lord. They should have heeded the warning in his voice the night before. Now, it was too little and too late. As Hermione watched the snow fall through the window, it was quite clear there was nothing to be done except go after him with the hope they'd be the ones to find him first.

Entering the bathroom, Hermione closed the window and locked it before heading to the room she had slept in to gather her things. She threw on the first pair of denims she wrangled from her enchanted bag and then began searching for either a jumper or coat to block out the elements. Feeling around blindly in the bag, she pulled on the first thing that felt remotely warm. It was the black jumper she had been wearing when Dolohov ambushed her not two nights previously.

The sight of the missing sleeve brought forth the painfully vivid memory of Severus bleeding profusely from the stab wound he received at Dolohov's hand. As her fingers touched the frayed end, Hermione remembered how she had spent several agonizing, tear-filled minutes pulling as hard as she could to rip it free. It was hardly an acceptable material to use as a bandage, but the makeshift tourniquet helped save his life nonetheless. After they had escaped to Spinner's End, Hermione couldn't bring herself to throw it away, but now, as she stared down at it, thinking of the nightmare it represented, she wished she would have. Leaving the ruined garment on the bed, Hermione shrugged into a worn hooded sweater belonging to Harry and headed for the first floor. She took to the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her, relieved to see that she hadn't kept her two companions waiting.

Ron was pacing the floors, working to keep himself calm. He had expressed his opinion about returning to Little Hangleton quite forcefully the night before, and was dreading the trip. Severus, on the other hand, was sitting in a wingback chair, looking as if nothing was amiss - as if they weren't about to put their lives on the line by going to back to the home of the most evil wizard who ever lived.

"Miss Granger," Snape addressed her calmly between sips of tea, "I trust you're ready to go."

"As ready as I'm likely to be," Hermione replied, trying to mask her apprehension. "Ron?"

"You know how I feel, Hermione." Ron turned to Snape, who was still sitting down sipping his tea. "Well, let's go if we're going."

Severus rose from his seat, teacup still in hand. "Certainly, Mister Weasley. Lead the way."

Ron suddenly looked stricken. "Are you mad? I… I don't know how to get there!"

"No? Well I guess you will have to wait until I'm good and ready then," Snape said with a smug grin before taking his tea cup to the kitchen sink. He took a pair of black leather gloves out of his coat pocket and pulled them on. "Now then," Severus said as he held out both hands, "if you'll follow me."

Hermione took Severus's right hand and Ron rather hesitantly his left. In an instant, the three of them were being pulled away from Spinner's End and toward the Riddle House. Nearly as soon as Hermione felt the violent flattening sensation of the Apparation, her feet touched solid ground. When she opened her eyes, however, what she saw made very little sense.

"This isn't Little Hangleton," Ron said, surveying at their new surroundings. "Why did you bring us to the bloody forest?"

"Little Hangleton is a Muggle village, Ron," Hermione said, noticing the murderous expression on Severus's face. If she didn't diffuse the tension, the two of them would never be able to work together for any duration of time. "I would imagine we're not far from the town?"

Severus's face softened for the slightest moment, but as Hermione studied him, she could still detect his foul mood. "The churchyard is just there, through the brush," he said, motioning to a dense thicket directly in front of them. "If we move parallel to the line of trees, we will come out directly behind the Riddle House."

Severus turned and began to clear a path through the brush. Ron and Hermione followed close behind him. "I thought you said you'd never been to Little Hangleton," Hermione said, stepping over a thick bunch of brush.

Severus held his hand out to steady her as she clambered over the undergrowth. "I said I had never been to the Riddle House, if you remember. I know enough about Little Hangleton to find my way around. After the Dark Lord returned fully, Dumbledore sent me to the churchyard to determine exactly how he managed such a feat."

"I guess being a Death Eater-turned-spy has its advantages," Ron added rather lightly. "When you're not bowing to a madman, you can go snooping—"

His words were suddenly cut off by the sight of a sapling branch barreling toward him. The naked branch missed his head by mere inches, but the look on his face suggested that Snape had slapped him rather than let go of the tree limb. Whether it was the threat of getting smacked in the face by the foliage or Severus's imposing glare, Ron didn't broach the subject again and fumed a good distance behind his companions.

The three of them silently continued their trek through the dense wooded area. The branches above loomed ominously like ghastly skeletal fingers waiting for the right moment to reach down and pluck them up. Hermione made it an effort to concentrate on her steps rather than the creaking branches overhead. The closer they traveled to the graveyard, the more heavily the entire ordeal weighed on her shoulders. She couldn't determine if it was simply returning to the Riddle House that made her nervous, or not knowing if Harry would be there when they arrived. The possibility of not finding Harry was becoming harder to ignore with each step Hermione took. She wasn't sure how long the elephant in the room could go without being addressed, but she couldn't bring herself to ask the question no one wanted to answer. If Harry wasn't at the Riddle House, they would just keep searching until they found him. That was the only option they had.

"I can see smoke," Hermione said triumphantly, her doubt suddenly vanishing. They were one step closer. "It's just there, through the clearing."

"I can smell it, too," Ron said, wrinkling his freckled nose with displeasure. "The house must still be burning."

"Or  _someone_  has trifled with it, kicking up the stench," Severus suggested.

Hermione was relieved to hear the small hint of optimism in his voice, but it was short lived as his face suddenly seemed to freeze. "What is—"

"Quiet!" Severus hissed, drawing his wand. His dark eyes locked on something off in the distance, and Hermione could feel the tiny hairs stand on the back of her neck. It took something gravely serious to garner that sort of response from him, and as the sound of two familiar voices reached her ears, she realized how perilous their situation had become.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy gave her sister's arm a violent tug. "Did you hear that?"

Bellatrix wrenched her arm free of Narcissa's grasp. "Of course I heard it! You think I'm deaf?"

"Someone's here," Narcissa said nervously. "We should, go Bellatrix. Now!"

"Don't be foolish." Bellatrix looked fixedly at the stone wall and then to her sister. "Do you see anyone here? You're being paranoid. And we can't leave until we find Potter. The Dark Lord will be furious with me if I fail him."

"Furious with _us_ , you mean," Narcissa corrected. "I'm in as deeply as you now, Bella. You have put me and my family in danger. And what do you suppose made that noise if we are alone?"

Bellatrix gave her sister a mixed look of annoyance and boredom. "A rat or Muggle. Neither of which are any concern to me."

"Or someone who is following us," Narcissa uttered, becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Then let them follow!" Bellatrix's frown twisted into a sneer and, without warning, she sent a curse shooting toward the stone wall. The violent stream of blue light connected with the aged stone, shattering a section of the wall to dust. Jagged pieces of stone soared through the air before raining back down to the earth like deadly grey hailstones

When the dust settled, there was a gaping hole surrounded by crumbling rubble. Narcissa could see past the wall and into the churchyard. The blast from Bella's wand had not only caused substantial damage to the wall, but everything directly behind it. Like a battering ram, the curse had plowed over everything its path. Tombstones were either overturned or massive chunks were missing from their weathered tops. The frustration Narcissa felt moments earlier was no longer cresting, but crashing down around her, much like the side of the modest church that had absorbed the last of the curse. If they didn't have company, they soon would have once the townsfolk realized the church and its yard lay in considerable ruin.

Bellatrix observed the destruction caused by her hand, the hint of a gleeful grin paying a visit to her thin lips. "Does that ease your mind?"

"Hardly, you stupid fool!" Narcissa was obstinate, her voice becoming shrill. "How long will it be before the locals are swarming this hillside?"

"Let them," Bellatrix said, kicking through the rubble, "and I shall see how many pieces I can make from each one."

Narcissa's face turned puce. "Your arrogance knows no bounds!"

The Dark witch flipped her wild hair over her shoulder as though she hadn't just decimated the landscape and continued to sift through the charred wood. Narcissa could feel her face glowing with ire as she watched what was left of the church fall to the ground. "This isn't a game, Bellatrix!" she persisted. "You are behaving like an errant brat!"

Bellatrix spun around quickly, her face flushed and her hair flying. Narcissa realized she had struck a nerve when she felt her sister's wand at the base of her throat. "You…Will…Watch…Your… Tongue, lest you want to lose it."

"You wouldn't dare." Narcissa's voice was nearly as cold as her blue eyes. "If you think I'm afraid of you, Bella, you are sorely mistaken."

"Not afraid of me, are you?" Bellatrix hissed. "Perhaps you've forgotten! I am the Dark Lord's most—"

Whether it was truly out of fear for frustration, Narcissa suddenly became aware of her wand as it jutted into Bellatrix's side. Narcissa could see her sister was just as surprised to see it there as she was. "Do not test me. Bellatrix, I swear to you, I'll do it."

Narcissa gathered up what courage she possessed and looked her sister straight in the eyes as though to say she wouldn't stand for her scare tactics. She only hoped Bella couldn't detect the slight shaking of the wand in her hand. "Now finish what you came here to do."

Bellatrix's eyes grew wide under her thick lashes, but she was unable to find s retort. Instead, she gave one final jab with her wand before turning away in a huff. Narcissa had long since discovered that she was one of the very few people that could question Bellatrix's authority or disagree with her without drawing her fury. Now, after she had felt her sister's wand digging painfully into her throat, she knew exactly how much their relationship had deteriorated since Lord Voldemort had risen to power. Family meant little to Bellatrix apart from upholding the Pureblood values they had lived by for countless generations, and Narcissa knew their days of civilized company were numbered if they had already resorted to turning their wands on each other.

Narcissa had heard it countless times, and quite frankly, she was becoming sick of it. Pruning away those on the family tree that threatened to diminish its worth had been Bellatrix's reasoning for attacking those in their family who disagreed with their Pureblood perceptions. Narcissa admonished her sister's behaviour and actions, but allowed her to do as she pleased for the sake of loyalty. She hadn't considered until the very moment she found herself at the end of Bellatrix's wand, that her sister viewed loyalty as something else entirely. Narcissa had seen it firsthand, and had even taken part in it herself as far as their estranged sister Andromeda was concerned, but to be on the receiving end of Bellatrix's almost-tirade stirred a sense of betrayal inside her that she couldn't quite shake.

Irritated and feeling unhinged, Narcissa started off toward the church, anxious to put distance between herself and Bellatrix. The high-heeled boots she wore scraped nosily over the few floorboards that were still intact, eliciting an agitated hiss from the very witch she was trying to evade.

"Be quiet!" Bellatrix's tone carried a touch of darkness, suggesting she wouldn't hesitate to act on her vexation.

 _How dare she talk to me like a child!_ Narcissa thought in disgust. For good measure Narcissa dug her heel into a charred beam until it splintered with a faint crack. She couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of childish joy as she watched Bellatrix bristle like a wild animal. It wasn't hard to guess her expression. Bellatrix's pale face was undoubtedly scrunched in an ugly frown, the sort of look she reserved for those that truly incensed her.

Narcissa often felt a slight sense of satisfaction when she saw that expression on Bella's face. Once a rather stunning witch, Bellatrix's face now showed signs of what happened when one obediently followed the Dark Lord.  _It serves her right,_  Narcissa's subconscious intoned triumphantly as she caught a glimpse of her snarled lips against her gaunt face.

With her hand clutched tightly around her wand, Narcissa was ready to deflect the hex that was sure to come her way. Instead, when Bellatrix turned around, she went oddly still as her annoyance at the situation seemed to evaporate. Her dark eyes searched through the grey blend of smoke and drizzle that hung miserably in the air. Narcissa likened her to a predator that had spotted unfortunate and unsuspecting prey.

Watching her sister closely, Narcissa couldn't bring herself to move nor could she find the will to turn to see what had so deeply ensnared Bella's attention. "Bella..."

A brilliant flash of purple light spiraled from the Dark witch's wand and narrowly missed Narcissa's head as it rocketed past. She ducked out of instinct to escape the curse, and had fallen to her knees as a result. Glass cut painfully into her palms as she tried to hoist herself off the ground. Narcissa stared down at the blood dripping down her fingertips and onto her clothes, struggling against the urge to retch. She absently heard the curse smash into what was left of the church and the sound of heavy footfalls approaching.

Bellatrix had started running toward the churchyard, shouting a string of obscenities colorful even for her. Narcissa felt her sister's hand grab the tail of her tailored coat, pulling her upright. "Now, Narcissa— get up—" Bellatrix shrieked incoherently, whilst tugging Narcissa along. "It's— _come on_ —Potter!"

Narcissa felt her heart leap into her throat as she recognized the disheveled dark hair belonging to the retreating individual. The thought of washing her hands clean of Bella's indiscretion seemed to take over and Narcissa felt herself running alongside her sister despite the quivering of her legs. They need only catch him and it would all be over.

* * *

When he heard the two of them arguing, Harry couldn't help himself when he ventured a glance around the stone wall. He thought he had been in the clear after Bellatrix made it quite plain to Narcissa that the noise he had inadvertently made was of little consequence to them. To stay that he had not expected Bellatrix to blast the wall he was hiding behind to bits was a laughable understatement. Of course, Harry was hardly laughing, though the wheezing coughs he tried to suppress sounded awkwardly similar.

Harry had next to no time to retreat when the violent blast of magic came hurdling towards him, but was thankful he had enough sense to dive away from the wall just as the blue light from Bellatrix's wand caused the stone to disintegrate. When the smoke cleared and the final jagged pieces of rock fell back to earth, he found himself lying prone on the sodden, muddy grass with his glasses cutting painfully into his cheek. At first, Harry was too petrified to move to his feet, choosing instead to roll over on his back to discover the true extent of the damage around him. The gaping hole in the wall left him exposed and the church that was missing a quarter of its side groaned ominously in protest behind him. A deep sense of dread descended over him as Harry slowly began to move an inch or so along the ground as not to draw attention to himself. He had just made a very grand mistake, and if he planned on escaping without being seen, Harry knew he would have to make a run for it.

By withdrawing back away from the wall and the incoming blast, Harry had unintentionally placed himself out in the open. He could clearly see Bellatrix and Narcissa standing nose to nose, their wands aimed at the other. He felt hopeful for a moment as he considered the prospect of the two witches having a go at each other, deciding that he would use their lapse of vigilance to his advantage. Harry held his hand up, noticing the Disillusionment spell, though intact, had been weakened by the sudden violent surge of magic. Instead of the faint outline he had seen in Cokeworth, his hand was now only invisible when he remained stock still. He couldn't risk recasting the charm, as the Black sisters would surly see him before he could conceal himself properly.

Then, of course, there was the question of whether he i _could_ /i even produce a sufficient charm or not. Harry did not know what curse Bellatrix had sent in his direction, but the dazzling blue blast of magic was strangely powerful for someone of even her prodigious skill. He could still feel the fine hairs on his neck and arms standing on end, as if the air around him was filled with electricity. The sudden flow of magic left him feeling strangely affected. Harry couldn't quite place the odd sensation, though the closet experience he could recount that produced a similar impression was when he found himself face to face with a Dementor. He wasn't necessarily cheerless per se, but Harry certainly did not feel like himself, and was sure the unpleasant sensation would lead to nothing good.

Harry, casting one final glance toward the bickering sisters, warily made it to his knees. His sweater, having soaked up the dampness from the ground, clung to his body, making it difficult for him to maintain silence. Once upright, Harry wiped away the mud and dust covering the lenses of his glasses only to wince when his hand hit the cut just under his left eye. The metal frame of his glasses had snapped and was barely holding the left lens in place. Harry pocketed them before slowing getting to his feet.

He was sure he looked ridiculous, covered in mud and making unnaturally calculated movements, but he couldn't move too quickly and risk being spotted. With each move, he looked to the two witches not one hundred feet from where he was; paying careful attention to only move when their backs were turned or they were speaking.

 _So far so—_  Harry found himself unable to finish his thought. He froze, looking straight ahead, trying to determine if he was seeing things correctly. He didn't need his glasses to tell him that Narcissa Malfoy was walking directly toward him. The sudden urge to run for cover nearly overcame him and most likely would have had Narcissa not turned once again to her sister. Harry couldn't take any more chances, and the close proximity was enough to send shivers down his spine. He had to make a run for it.

"Move," he ordered himself in a whisper. Harry started to back way rather hastily, and at the most inopportune time. Bellatrix Lestrange turned with a snarled expression on her face. Harry watched as her gaze flew past Narcissa and settled directly on him.

 _Don't move. Don't breathe_ , his subconscious said rather loudly, though the words were nearly drowned out by his thumping heart ringing in his ears.  _Don't move. Don't breathe_. Bellatrix took a step toward the church, and Harry watched as her hand disappeared in the pocket of her cloak.  _Don't move. Don't breathe_. A lump suddenly caught in his throat as a leering smirk widened on Bellatrix's skeletally pale face, and the voice in his head was now screaming at him to run.

Harry had very little time to anything apart from hit the ground when the wild, purple-coloured curse ripped through the air above him and smashed into what was left of the church. Slipping and sliding on the sopping ground, he made it to his feet once again and tore off around the church just as its tiled roof imploded.

The wheezing sound escaping his lips was the only thing Harry heard as he ran. The dust still in his lungs left him winded, and it felt as though his insides were slowly melting with each forced step he took. There would be no way he could evade them on foot, and as far as Harry could tell, there was nowhere to seek refuge from the bevy of curses aimed in his direction. Harry focused his thoughts on Spinner's End, particularly the alleyway beside Snape's house, and soon felt an odd jerking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes the instant he felt his feet leave the ground, concentrating hard on his destination. Harry's body gave a violent jolt and, rather than materializing out of thin air in Cokeworth, he was suddenly catapulted forward. He landed face-first on the ground, sputtering to collect the air that had been forced from his lungs on impact. When Harry struggled to his feet, the searing pain in his left leg sent him crashing back down on all fours. He saw the bloodstains soaking through his denims and, immediately, he knew - he had Splinched himself.

* * *

The powerful sound of discharging magic caused Severus to jump out of reflex. The ground beneath his feet gave a slight tremble, urging him to instinctively pull Hermione between himself and Ron, effectively shunting her from the unknown harm that lie before them.

"What the  _hell_  was that?" Ron blurted, utterly horrorstruck.

Severus turned, observing the redhead backing away from the tree line with apprehension. Ron glanced nervously to Hermione and then to Severus, as if expecting them to give it up as a bad job and return to Spinner's End. Severus felt the corners of his mouth turn in a frown, but looked away just as Ron stood a little straighter, ruffling his hair out of nervousness.

"You think… you think whoever that is has spotted us?" asked Ron.

" _That_  would be Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange," Severus said smoothly. "And no. If we had been seen, that curse would have flattened these woods."

"What if they've seen Harry?" Hermione whispered, her tone on the verge of panic. "We can't just stand here! We —we've got to do something!"

Severus looked to Hermione, seeing that she was quivering where she stood. Her fair face was flushed, though he could not tell if it was from the crispness of the air, or her fear. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, pull her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to tell her that they would find her ignorant friend, and that he—that they all—would be safe from serious harm. Instead, Severus looked away from her and toward the clearing straight ahead of them. Admittedly, he had not expected to run into such a state of affairs while looking for Harry. There was always the risk, of course, but until he found himself standing right in front of what had turned into an extremely serious problem, Severus hadn't given much thought to it. They had managed to get themselves out of more deadly situations in the past, but standing safely on the sidelines with Hermione now made it all the more imperative to keep her out of harm's reach.

Severus turned, looking all the more like the authoritative figure he had been while at Hogwarts. "The two of you will stay here—"

Hermione's face twisted with alarm. "Absolutely not!" She grabbed the sleeve of his coat, as though a swift wind might come by and sweep him away.

Not caring if Ron was standing just feet from them, Severus reached down, seizing her by her shoulders. "Hermione, that's enough. Listen to me—"

"No!" she said more forcefully this time. "I will not let you go by yourself. You don't know who else could be out there—"

"Precisely," said Severus softly, wrenching his arm free from her hand, "which is why I am not letting you go. You and Weasley will stay here until I give you a signal, when it's safe for you." Severus watched as Hermione weighed his words, relieved to see that she was on the verge of accepting his compromise.

"He's right, Hermione," Ron said suddenly. His voice made it seem as though he was trying to sound much more courageous than he felt. "It's better to know what we're dealing with before we march straight up to it, right?"

Severus nodded imperceptibly in response to Ron, though his eyes never left the witch in front of him. With his head inclined ever so slightly in toward her, Severus raised a single brow. Along with it, the corners of his mouth turned upward just a touch. He regretted what he was doing the moment he found himself using such a tactic, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Severus watched as Hermione's face reddened even more, and she hastily looked away. Severus felt an odd sensation juddering in the pit of his stomach, slightly uncomfortable that her response would have such an effect on him. He cleared his throat, remembering suddenly that they were not alone, and returned to his full height.

"Alright, fine," Hermione said slowly before adding, "What sort of signal will Ron and I be looking for?"

"My Patronus, naturally," he replied, casting a Disillusionment charm over himself. Invisible and alert, Severus stepped through the tree line and out into the open.

On his previous visit to Little Hangleton, Severus had seen the Riddle House standing proud yet ominous on the hill overlooking the quaint village. It seemed oddly out of place with its grandiose curtilage and multiple floors. Now it was nothing more than a few remaining walls, charred nearly unrecognizable, and surrounded by a heap of ash and mangled debris. The last lingering wall at the back of the house, though badly damaged, blocked his view of the front of the house, and subsequently the Black sisters. Severus kept to the tree line as he scanned the perimeter and only deviated from his course when he determined that Bellatrix and Narcissa were, in fact, alone. Finding out exactly where they were was his next step.

Severus edged closer toward the remnants of the house, taking every step with the utmost caution. His years as a Death Eater had led to the development of his incredible ability to move stealthily. Moving almost silently over the muddy ground, Severus finally made it to the side of the house closest to the churchyard. Bellatrix and Narcissa came into view, and given their guarded stances, Severus could tell they were in the middle of a rather heated discussion. Narcissa's wand looked to be held at her sister's side, while Bella's was poised at Narcissa's throat.

Severus couldn't help but smirk as he crouched. Watching at them, he thought, was like looking at two spoiled, overly-grown children fighting over a meaningless trinket. No sooner did the thought cross his mind than their confrontation seemed to end, and Severus had to admit he was rather shocked to see it was Bellatrix who conceded defeat. He held her fixedly in his gaze as she walked a few paces from Narcissa and started searching through the rubble. Narcissa, on the other hand, turned and walked toward what Severus had decided was the churchyard wall. Convinced they wouldn't venture far, Severus's eyes traveled along the remaining wall, searching for any sign of Harry.

It was a miserable failing. Bits of stone and aged mortar had pelted the ground all around the vicinity, making it impossible to detect even the slightest hint of a footprint. Snape's eyes jumped to the church, noticing the rather large hole in one side. The wooden pews inside had been blasted off the floor and lay haphazardly atop themselves. There was, however, no sign of life in the wreckage, Severus saw with relief.

Severus started to turn away only to catch the sight of Bellatrix from the corner of his eye. From the angle he was crouched, it looked as though the Dark witch was staring directly at Narcissa, but as Bellatrix took a step forward, Severus could see her move slightly to peer around her sister. He craned his neck to find nothing but empty space between Bellatrix and the church.

With very little warning, a blinding flash of violent purple light erupted from the Bellatrix's wand was sent flying past Narcissa, where it hit the church with a deafening boom. Much to Severus's horror, the building came raining down upon the wet ground, sending up plumes of murky dust as it collapsed. Bellatrix and Narcissa started sprinting toward the rubble, but he still could not detect exactly what they were after.

Severus moved forward as quickly as his half-kneeling, half-standing position would allow. Narcissa and Bellatrix had now curved around the fallen church and were running parallel to the tree line. He's eyes raced ahead of them, just in time to see Harry running pell-mell a few hundred feet in front of them.

Panic, wild and abrupt, rose up in Severus like vomit as he realized Harry was leading the sisters directly to where Ron and Hermione were concealed. He bolted across the turf in an attempt to head them off, but Harry suddenly vanished. Snape came to a skidding halt, trying to decide the best course of action, only to see hear a booming crack a split second later. Severus's head snapped forward, seeing that Harry had reappeared a considerable distance ahead of him. Judging by the animalistic howl coming from his direction, Harry had botched his attempt to flee.

"Idiot boy," Severus hissed, taking off again at a full run. Still concealed under the Disillusionment Charm, he was able to deflect the curses aimed toward the boy struggling to stand on his own feet. Severus ran past Harry, hooking his arm through the boy's and almost hoisting him off the ground as he continued.

Clearly surprised that he was being dragged along by some invisible force, Harry let out a startled yelp before striking Severus across the shoulder with a remarkably strong Stinging Jinx. Snape felt a white-hot pain lashing down his back and he dropped Harry as though he had suddenly caught fire. He would have a ghastly welt there later given the way he could already feel it start to rise. "For fuck's sake, Potter!"

Harry froze, recognizing the familiar gruff voice despite being unable to see the man to which it belonged. "Snape?"

Severus ended the charm he had placed over himself, materializing just inches beside Harry. "We've got to move," he said sternly, seizing Harry by the nape of the neck and dragging him to his feet once again.

Harry winced, putting weight down on his damaged leg as Severus forced him along. "What the hell are you doing? Just Disapparate!"

"Brilliant idea," said Severus, the tone of his voice deftly inflected to show false astonishment. "Unlike you, I'd much prefer to keep my leg intact."

Harry looked at Snape as if he had just spoken another language. Severus jerked him onward, though he knew his leg threatened to buckle at any moment. "An Anti-Disapparition Jinx, stupid. Be quiet and let me handle this." Without another word, Severus cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and Harry and not a moment too soon, as Bellatrix appeared over the bluff, followed soon after by a panting Narcissa.

"Harry Potter, you cannot hide from me!" Bellatrix roared madly. Her face looked inhuman as wicked glee and irritation flashed across it almost simultaneously. "Face me, Potter!"

Severus pulled his arm completely around Harry's neck, fearing he would grow hotheaded enough to grant her request. Back to front, the two of them stood as still as Severus could manage while the two witches approached. Twice, Harry flinched as if testing Severus for a weakness, and twice Severus increased his grip, holding Harry firmly in place. "Do not be foolish," Severus whispered harshly, as Bellatrix and Narcissa drew nearer.

Severus regarded the sisters as they approached. Bellatrix's wide eyes looked to be nearly popping out of her head as she scanned the expanse of land in front of her. Narcissa, on the other hand, could have been easily compared to a rabbit that found itself dropped in the middle of a dog's kennel. Her wand trembled in her hand and the slightest sound caused her to flinch.

"How did you manage it?" Bellatrix asked sweetly. Her head was cocked playfully and she smiled, seemingly unaware that she was looking right at him, though Severus was nearly certain she had some sort of idea with when she said, "Surviving the Killing Curse for the second time, such power you must have, yet you besmirch it with your spinelessness. The great Harry Potter!" She exclaimed in lavishly dramatic tones. "Nothing but a…coward."

Harry shook so badly as the last word rolled off the witches' tongue that Severus had difficulty restraining him.

"I always wondered what my dear cousin saw in you," Bella went on, giving Severus the impression she was discussing the weather over tea. "Do you miss him, Potter? Do you wonder what it would've been like had I not silenced him?"

Bellatrix turned abruptly, holding her wand to her temple as if deep in thought. "What'd you think dear,  _dead_  Sirius would say, Narcissa, if he knew his godson had not the nerve to face his troubles?"

Narcissa remained silent, looking utterly uncomfortable. Realizing she was not going to partake in the conversation, Bellatrix spun on her heel and continued to talk to the empty air like an old friend. "Better yet, what would Dumbledore have to say about you? His boy savior, the one he favored above all others. Oh yes, Potter, he reared you for moments such as this and you repay him by doing nothing!"

Focused on Bellatrix, Severus never anticipated Harry's foot as it crashed down atop his boot. Severus staggered backwards, swearing loudly, and Harry saw his chance. The moment Severus relinquished his hold, Harry lunged forward, grabbing fistfuls of Bellatrix's hair and dragging her down to the ground as he fell.

" _Finite Incantatem_!" Narcissa shouted; Harry suddenly became visible, his hands having wrapped themselves around Bellatrix's neck. Seconds later, and clearly much to Narcissa's horror, Severus also materialized. She wasted little time sending a wild flash of light straight for his head. Severus deflected it easily enough and advanced on her while Harry struggled to maintain the upper hand.

On the ground, Bellatrix was screeching and clawing at every part of Harry she could reach. Her wand had been knocked from her hand and lay several feet away, almost invisible in the mud. Still, even without a weapon, she put up a nasty fight. Harry's hands clenched at Bellatrix's throat threatened to cut off her air supply, but did nothing for the wild look of effrontery that had suddenly passed across her lips. Bellatrix's nails scored his lip nearly causing it to burst open. Again and again, the Death Eater lashed out at Harry until he removed a single hand to control her flailing. Severus realized Harry's mistake perhaps a moment sooner than Harry himself did.

The air around them was filled with a feral scream that caused both Severus and Narcissa to turn and see Harry lying prostrate on his back with Bellatrix's cursed dagger pressed to his cheek. She had pinned him down using her weight and each time he struggled for freedom, the pointed heel of Bellatrix's boot buried itself deeper into his Splinched leg. Severus drew his wand in their direction, but was unable to cast a single spell as a blazing bolt of magic swept over his head, knocking Bellatrix end over end.

Severus whirled around to see Hermione and Ron descending from atop the bluff. He should have known they would hear the commotion and refuse to stay put. Narcissa rushed past Snape immediately, discovering that she and her sister had just become outnumbered two to one. Severus saw her pale hand swoop down and grab hold of Bellatrix's wand as she scurried for cover. Narcissa tossed it to Bellatrix when she was within distance, but continued on beyond where the Death Eater stood, livid.

"The whole gang's come to play!" The shrillness of her voice was knife-like in the way that it seemed to crawl under Snape's skin and carve away at him. "The more, the  _bloody_  merrier!"

Severus's stomach seemed to plummet to the soles of his feet as a stream of deadly green soared from Bellatrix's wand, hitting a naked tree as it narrowly whizzed by Hermione. With a spray of green sparks, the curse tore the sizable trunk nearly to its base and it landed with a thundering crash of twisted limbs and splintering wood.

Hermione and Ron answered with their own medley of spells, each of which Bellatrix and Narcissa were able to deflect with ease. Seeing that the sisters were focusing on Ron and Hermione, Severus seized the opportunity to get to Harry. He made his way to where the boy was lying in extreme pain and stood over him. Bellatrix turned her attention back to Harry and trained her wand on Severus. A sick smile formed on Bellatrix's face. "Time to finally get what you deserve, Severus. I told you long ago that nothing good could come of associating with blood traitors and Mudbloods." Bellatrix's arm went back as she prepared to cast a curse. Much to her surprise, as well as Severus's, her wand flew out of her hand and flew backward.

"Looks like nothing good comes from being around Mudbloods for you, either," Hermione said as she held Bellatrix's wand up triumphantly. Enraged, Bellatrix drew her dagger and started toward Hermione.

The red Stunning Spell exploded from Narcissa's wand with more force than Severus expected. He anticipated one of his three companions to fall, overcome by such a force, but instead, it was Bellatrix that crumpled to her knees. The spell had hit her squarely in the back of the head, sending her flying forward several feet before she skidded to a stop only steps from where Severus stood. Blood trickled from her nose and her jaw hung slack. She looked eerily corpse-like, though her chest still rose and fell slightly. Bellatrix was out cold, and would likely remain that way for a while. Severus heard the collective gasp coming from behind him, telling him he wasn't the only one who had just discovered this fortunate fact.

"Bloody hell! She's snuffed one of her own!" Ron exclaimed, breathlessly.

"I don't think she's dead, Ron," replied Hermione. She made no effort to check for the truthfulness of her statement.

Ron took a step forward, his face twisting with disbelief. "What'd you reckon she's playing at, then?"

"Severus! Severus, please!" Narcissa threw her hands up the air as she fell to her knees. Her fair face was contorted with an expression such that Severus found himself unable to do anything but stare at her. Her blonde hair hung lifelessly around her face, and she looked to be walking the knife's edge of collapse. Hysterical, Narcissa sat on the ground waving her wand above her head, as though it were a white flag signaling her surrender.

"Narcissa, drop the wand!" Severus warned, taking a menacing step forward.

The witch released it immediately, taking extra care to hurl it a good distance in front of her. "Severus, I beg you! Have mercy, please!"

Severus, his expression unreadable, watched as Hermione hurried forward to collect the wand and retreated back by his side nearly as quickly. He could tell the moment Hermione returned that his eyes were not jesting.

"It's hers," Hermione said, her eyes darting from the wand to its wailing owner. "But why?"

"Indeed, Narcissa. Why?" Severus asked coldly.

"Who cares why!" Harry suddenly roared above her sobbing. "They were both looking for me! Her bloody sister nearly did me in!"

Severus whipped around, seizing the collar of his shirt and nearly picked him up off the ground in the process. "And you walked right into it, you idiot!" Harry struggled to free himself, only to have Severus gouge the tips of his fingers deep into his collarbone. "You have absolutely no say in this, Potter! None! It is because of you we are all in this fucking mess! Now shut your mouth before I do it for you. And I can assure you, Potter, you will never speak again when I'm through." Severus all but threw him backwards, watching with immense satisfaction as he stumbled over his own feet.

"Don't threaten me, Snape!" Harry spat, taking a step toward him, as though primed for the attack. "You don't have it—"

Severus watched with a murderous look on his face as Ron and Hermione pulled Harry backwards. He wanted nothing more than to prove what he said was not a threat, but Harry Potter's mouth running away from him was the least of Severus's worries.

"Harry Potter!" Hermione was now standing between he and Harry, and the ringing harshness of her voice was surprisingly shocking. "I will stun you myself if you continue to act like you've lost your brains! Arguing like first-years is not helping!"

Harry glanced quickly between Hermione and Snape. Severus thought he saw a retort forming behind his bloodied lip, but Harry simply spun around to take a seat on a stump that sat nearby, refusing to look at the proceedings altogether. Turning his attention, once again, to Narcissa, Severus saw that she had managed to regain a little of her composure throughout their quarrel, though she still looked to be close to hyperventilating.

"Severus, you must understand," she cried in earnest, "this was never my intention! I wanted no part of this madness."

"Yet here you are," Severus snarled, opening his arms wide to prove his point. "Tell me, Narcissa, when did you realize it was in your best interest to forfeit?"

He could tell Narcissa was struggling to answer the question when she bowed her head, as though in prayer. Her shoulders gave a violent heave and she started to sob yet again, burying her head in her dirtied hands.

"The Dark Lord—he has been searching for Bella. He's ordered Lucius and Draco to find her." Narcissa looked up at him with swollen, bloodshot eyes bursting at the seams with a sudden pleading Severus was finding hard to ignore. "Severus, the longer they go without finding her, the more dangerous it becomes for them. The Dark Lord does not forgive easily, as you very well know. And his patience wanes by the hour!"

"That still does not explain why the two of you were here." Severus ignored the scathing noise from behind him and continued. "What were you after, and if you lie to me, I shall know it."

"We were after the boy." Narcissa thrust her arm toward Harry accusingly. "Bella refused to go to the Dark Lord until she could deliver him the happy news of his death. She was convinced he was alive," Narcissa added.

"Her master's wand fired the Killing Curse," Hermione said nastily. "How is it that she knew? The Dark Lord believed he had died the moment the curse left his foul lips!"

"Obviously he still breathes," Narcissa answered dangerously.

Severus's wand was once again trained on the sniveling witch. "And he will continue to do so."

"Don't misconstrue my meaning," Narcissa amended, looking petrified. "She hoped to trace him by coming here. She saw the Mu—the girl Disapparate with him, and Bellatrix said she need only find the trace to track him."

"You've  _yet_  to answer my first question, Narcissa." Severus's tone suggested he was growing increasingly tired of her. "Why the sudden change of allegiance? I doubt that you are unaware of the consequences that will come from such a thing."

"I'm seeking your asylum and your clemency," said Narcissa softly, unable to look him in the eye. "Bellatrix will have my head when she discovers what I've done."

"If not, the Dark Lord will be standing right behind her." Severus looked to Bellatrix who still lay at his feet, finding that his words were beginning to fail him. "You have meddled far too deeply this time, and if you feel your actions have not rippled out toward your husband and son, then you are a fool."

Apparently, this thought had not occurred to her, which Severus thought odd, and only seemed to prove that she was acting out of desperation instead of planning."Allow me to deliver Bella to them! All will be forgiven after that, surely."

"You-know-who doesn't know Harry's alive?" said a voice behind Severus. He turned to see Ron, staring at Narcissa, as if he thought he gaze would inflict serious harm.

"As I said, Bella says he does not. I cannot speak for him myself."

"And who's to say" Ron began, gesturing to Bellatrix, " _she_ won't tell him when she's taken there?"

"She won't," Severus answered before Narcissa had a chance to form the words. Already, he could feel the innermost workings of his mind weighing the possibilities. Perhaps they could use this to their advantage, though exactly how still remained hidden in the shadows.

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked, warily. "I thought he was able to detect falsehoods better than almost anyone?"

"She won't be going to the Dark Lord." Severus pointed his wand at the still unconscious Bellatrix. "i _Incarcerous._ /i" Thick ropes seemed to shoot from midair, encasing Bellatrix's body tightly. Severus was convinced she would do well to escape from that should she come to.

Narcissa blinked back the tears staring at him. "Severus?"

"The moment you start to question whether to trust someone or not, is precisely when you realize you don't," Severus answered flatly. "Narcissa, I cannot."

Sudden realization swept across Narcissa's face. She struggled to her feet, tripping over the hem of her coat and landed on all fours. "No, wait!"

The flash of red flew from Severus's wand, hitting her in the face. She made a startled sound as her features went suddenly still, almost peaceful. Narcissa fell to the ground silently only to be wrapped securely in a second set of giant ropes. The heavy tie coiled itself around her body like a giant snake determined to constrict the air from her lungs. Once securely fastened, Severus levitated her next to her sister so they were lying side by side.

"We're not leaving them behind, I take it," Ron said tersely, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of bringing them along.

Severus retrieved a large stone from the ground, silently tapping it with his wand. "No," he said finally once the stone was illuminated blue from the Portus spell. "They may prove useful to us in time."

"What? Like a bargaining chip?" Harry demanded as he stood from his seat atop the stump. Severus had to resist the urge not to strangle him for his brazenness, choosing instead to leave Harry's question unanswered.

Severus gestured down to Bellatrix. "Grab hold of her foot, Weasley. And don't let go." he warned, only to add, "For God's sake; I doubt you'll suffer the Killing Curse from her toes!" when he noticed Ron's hesitation to obey his command.

"So you say," Ron grumbled under his breath as he seized the boot covering Bellatrix's foot.

Severus did the same to Narcissa as he kneeled down to place his hand upon the Portkey. Hermione was at his side, awaiting his go with a somewhat perplexed expression etched across her face. Severus contemplated asking her to say whatever it was she was thinking, but before he was given the chance, she stood abruptly.

"Wait!" Hermione said, hastily. Severus's eyes followed her while she was walked purposefully in the direction of the house. She held her wand over her head, making a wide arcing motion through the air. " _Accio_  Horcrux!"

Off in the distance, the faint sound of wood collapsing could be heard. Moments later, a golden blur zoomed overhead, looking very much like an oversized Snitch. The goblet landed with a resonating metallic noise on the ground at her feet. Hermione retrieved it quickly and placed it in the front pocket of the hooded sweater. Looking astonishingly satisfied at her good fortune, she returned to her spot in front of the Portkey. "Now we can go."

"On my mark." Severus placed his hand over the charmed rock, careful to give his companions room to latch on. "Three… Two… One… Now!" With a violent lurch forward, Severus felt himself soaring upward through the sky until they were all sheathed in a twisting darkness, well on their way to Spinner's End.

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Author's Notes:

As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Nothing thrills a writer more than hearing from those who take time out of their busy days to share in the words we often times spend hours putting together. That being said, if you read, drop me a line. We write for you just as much as we write for ourselves. Next chapter soon!


	28. Self-made Cages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't be able to keep Bellatrix incapacitated for long." Severus had emerged through a door, closing and locking it with a flourish of his wand from the outside. The room had been the one Ron and Harry had shared the night before. Having no windows or fireplace, it seemed to be the only logical place to house Bellatrix and Narcissa until he could figure out exactly what to do with them.

 

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

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**Chapter 27**

Self-made Cages

"I won't be able to keep Bellatrix incapacitated for long." Severus had emerged through a door, closing and locking it with a flourish of his wand from the outside. The room had been the one Ron and Harry had shared the night before. Having no windows or fireplace, it seemed to be the only logical place to house Bellatrix and Narcissa until he could figure out exactly what to do with them.

After arriving back at Spinner's End with the sisters in tow, Severus had taken extreme caution by removing everything from the room. While the house itself had been made unplottable the night Severus and Hermione were rescued, Snape had went a step further by deliberately concealing the room from everyone but the four of them. He had considered quite strongly refusing to allow Harry to be included in the loop, fearing he would once again seek the Death Eater out to finish what he had started in Little Hangleton. Much to his disbelief, Harry volunteered to make an Unbreakable Vow to prove that he would leave Bellatrix and Narcissa alone. Only when Hermione vouched for Harry did Severus finally relent.

Severus looked to Hermione who stood in the hall and shook his head. "Even unconscious, the power she has to safeguard her thoughts…" He trailed off from utter perplexity. "The Imperius Curse I've placed over Narcissa, however, remains intact."

"What do you intend to do with them?" asked Hermione, hardly listening, lost in her own thoughts as she studied the now impenetrable door.

"I'm not sure, but we cannot let them go. Not for the time being, at least" Severus continued. "It seems as though Narcissa is telling the truth about the Dark Lord. He remains ignorant of his curse failing, and for now, releasing them would not be in our best interest as we may for once have the upper hand."

Hermione looked at Severus intently, noticing how his hand rubbed gingerly at his shoulder. She winced, remembering the verbal throttling Harry had received from her for not only hexing Severus, but nearly getting them all killed. Harry's face, marred and bloodied by the evidence of Bellatrix's fury, had screwed with shock as Hermione relayed to him the serious and potentially explosive consequences his actions could have had. Not soon after, Ron seemed to only punctuate her points when he threatened to stand by and do nothing when Snape insisted on placing him under the Imperius Curse for good measure.

Outnumbered and sore, Harry sat with his head in his hands and took every harsh word they launched his way. When they had run out of things to say, Harry got up silently and shut himself in his new room. Two hours later, he still had not emerged, and no one had bothered to interrupt him. Hermione and Severus walked silently past the Harry's closed door and descended the stairs to the main level. Time and distance would be the only thing to heal the tender, infected riff Harry had caused, and there was no need at present to rush it.

Ron, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looked up from the faded black book in his lap when the bookcase sprang apart with a jar, allowing Severus and Hermione to pass through. Several books were lying on the floor around him. A tattered copy of  _Magick Moste Evile_  belonging to Snape lay sprawled open by Ron's side. In his lap, however, was the worst book to have ever been made.

Hermione had summoned  _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ and several other Dark magic texts from Dumbledore's office before the three of them began their task. It had been, by far, the most helpful in understanding exactly what they were up against when dealing with Horcruxes, but given the miffed air descending around Ron, it appeared to have lost its usefulness.

"Hermione, I can't make sense of any of this," griped Ron, gesturing to the thick tome as though it were withholding the information he sought for the fun of it. "Tells what they are, how to make them, how to kill them, but doesn't say one word about You-know-who knowing if we kill it!" He snapped the book shut, tossing it on the floor with a huff. "And this one is even worse. What good  _Magick Moste Evile_ is! The bloke who wrote it refused to mention anything other than the name."

Hermione crossed the room, stooping to pick up the faded, leather-bound book he had been reading. "Welcome to the world of research, Ron. We'll just have to keep looking."

Ron frowned, glaring at the golden goblet that sat gleaming on the rickety table. "Yeah, well I'd rather kiss a Dementor, because this is awful."

"But necessary," Severus added dryly, taking the book from Hermione as he passed on his way to the armchair in the corner. "It can't be destroyed until we know for sure it can be done unbeknownst to the Dark Lord."

"But I killed the locket—"

"And the Dark Lord promptly ordered  _that_  to be brought to him," Severus argued, motioning toward the cup. "Have you not listened to anything we've told you?"

Ron blanched, looking suddenly affronted. "I get it, I do, but you don't know what that thing can do."

"So long as you don't drink your morning tea from it, I believe you'll be in the clear." It was hard to miss the deep sarcasm in Severus's voice or the loathing look Ron cast in his direction.

"He's right, Ron," Hermione agreed shortly after, hopeful to add levity. "If you keep your distance it shouldn't be able to affect you much. You'd almost have to be touching it for it to feed off of you."

Ron deliberately withdrew his attention from his companions. To his great disappointment, it seemed as if he had no choice but to go along with them in this decision. He knew the vile thing had a mind of its own and wouldn't hesitate to strike against one of them when it found the opportunity. Honestly, Ron couldn't understand their threadbare reasoning. It seemed highly unadvisable, not to mention ridiculously stupid, to leave an intact Horcrux lying around with a psychotic Death Eater over their heads, and before he could help himself, he heard the words leave his mouth. "What exactly did Lestrange say to you, Hermione, when you cornered him in the pub?

A rush of air escaped through Hermione's nose. The subject still sat rather sourly with her. "We've already been through this at length, Ron. I don't want to talk about it."

"I know, but—"

"How difficult is it for you to understand that the Dark Lord has become paranoid?" Severus snapped.

"But he left it behind! That doesn't sound like someone who is paranoid to me."

Severus's eyes narrowed dangerously. "We're supposed to be dead, Weasley—all of us. How would we keep up this illusion if the Dark Lord suddenly found himself short another fragment of his soul? He would figure out the ploy the instant he felt it, and gaining access to the remaining two would be nearly impossible."

Ron seemed to deflate at this notion. Hermione, on the other hand, straightened up in her seat, suddenly aware of a hidden truth they had overlooked. "Harry was a Horcrux," she said with brows scrunched in contemplation.

"An unintentional one," Severus amended, sensing the direction of her next thought.

Hermione shook her head, trying to keep the delight out of her voice. "But that wouldn't matter, right? Intentional or not, if You-know-who was aware, he would have felt something the moment the curse struck Harry."

Severus's expression remained impassive, but the inner-most workings of his mind were busy digesting Hermione's words. She had a valid point, and from what he could remember of the Dark Lord during their last encounter, he gave no such indication of pain or anger—nothing except immense enjoyment in having finally silenced his self-made adversary. Still, without knowing completely the nature of a Horcrux and the connection it shared with its creator, it was a risk Severus wasn't willing to take.

He regarded the goblet as it sat in front of him. Golden and dotted with gemstones, it glistened in the sliver of afternoon light stealing past the drapes. Two finely-wrought handles jutted from the chalice, centering the badger engraved on its side. The small relic appeared harmless, unable to contain an eighth of Lord Voldemort's soul given its original, egalitarian owner. However, despite its innocent appearance, something about it was not quite right.

Having been in the Dark Lord's possession for some time now, the cup emitted an uneasy malevolence. Severus suspected he could detect it far better than his companions could given the way the Dark Mark on his forearm churned within his skin as he drew near. From the moment he had unwittingly compromised his position, he felt the occasional burning twinge of unpleasantness from the brand, but otherwise paid it no mind. He had lived with it for nearly twenty years, and had come to ignore the little hurts as they meant nothing. When Hermione had retrieved the goblet prior to returning to Spinner's End, however, he noticed right away that the burning sensation had become more pronounced. Severus absently ran his fingers over the Dark Mark, looking slantwise at the goblet from the corner of his eye.

"Be that as it may," he answered finally, feeling the raw heat from the Mark permeating through his sleeve, "I will not put anyone in this house at risk by destroying it. Only when we are sure will we attempt it."

Hermione looked flabbergasted. "But it could take weeks to uncover the information we need."

"Necessary weeks to avoid the possible risk," Severus countered quickly. "There will be no more discussion of it, Hermione." He wanted to add  _I could never live with myself if you fell victim_ but didn't. Instead, Severus stood from his chair, strode to the staircase and climbed out of sight.

"This is so stupid, Hermione," Ron whispered once their professor was out of earshot. "That thing will have us at each other's throats before the week is out. Mark my words, this won't end well."

Hermione rubbed her eyes, unable to disagree. "I'll talk to him. In the meantime, keep looking, because I doubt he'll listen." With an anxious expression, she left Ron alone with the books he had come to loath, feeling all the more conflicted with each step she ascended.

When she reached the second floor landing, Hermione noticed at once that Severus had disappeared into his bedroom. The door that had stood open not fifteen minutes before was now shut, and the sound of him shuffling beyond it echoed faintly in her direction. Her mind seemed unable to focus on a single thought as she approached and calmly knocked.

The door swung inward a few moments later, revealing Severus standing in his white undershirt with an unmarked bottle in his hand. "I didn't make you angry, did I?" Hermione blurted upon seeing him.

"Of course not." Severus opened the door wider—his silent acquiescence for her to encroach on his once sacred privacy— before turning for the adjoining lavatory at the other end of the room. "Why would you think such a thing?"

Hermione hesitated at the threshold, realizing she had developed the unfortunate habit of blushing when he spoke. "It's just that you left quickly…" she trailed off. Her eyes caught sight of the Dark Mark writhing on Severus exposed arm as he lifted his sleeve to the crook of his elbow.

Severus seemed half-amused, half-mortified by Hermione's expression. He would have to be more careful around her, because she was hardly used to that part of him. It was bad enough for him to live with the daily reminder of what he was; he saw no reason for her to have to do the same. Severus flexed his arm slightly, inspecting the snake coiling around itself. "Looks ghastly, doesn't it?" he said, suddenly looking shamefaced.

"It looks painful," Hermione answered, and much to his surprise, Severus felt his mood lighten. He had expected pity or indignation, or both to find its way into her voice, but instead it was filled with genuine concern. Hermione had now come fully into the room, stopping to stand by his side. "It doesn't always look this bad," she observed. Her hand moved as though she wanted to reach out and touch it.

"This is a recent development, I'm afraid." Severus cringed when her fingers traced lightly over the brand, and he found himself flinching away before he could stop.

The abrupt movement did not escape Hermione's notice, and her face flushed again despite the evenness of her voice. "The Horcrux is making the Mark more active, isn't it?"

"So it seems." Severus's eyes found the coiling, burning Dark Mark on his arm again, and he stared at it with increased loathing. He hated what he saw, and wished every day that he could carve it from his flesh and be rid of it. The Dark Lord, it seemed, had thought of everything, because Severus knew he would never be able to purge his last remaining tie to the wizard. So long as Lord Voldemort lived, his Dark Mark would thrive as a living token of the allegiance his followers swore. Even after his supposed demise, it had turned into a tender scar that couldn't be erased. "It is here to stay—my constant reminder of the things I can neither forget nor undo. It is nothing less than I deserve," he added quietly, as though the words were never meant to leave his thoughts.

Hermione noted the blackness of his tone, and found that his words twisted into her stomach like a knife. "You should never feel that way," she said, watching as he sank onto the bed's edge behind him. "No one deserves that, Severus, especially not you."

"Your view of me is flawed," Severus answered, feeling the mattress shift. He knew at once that she was sitting right there beside him, though he refused himself a glimpse of her. Instead, he unscrewed the lid to the bottle, revealing the putrid, orange goop it contained.

"No," Hermione said harshly. " _Your_ view of you is flawed. That Dark magic in your arm—"

"Was put there by my own doing, my own decisions, and my own poor judgment," Severus snapped. "There is no redemption in that." He scooped out a liberal amount of the Burn-healing Paste and rubbed it over his forearm, savoring the slight relief it gave.

"Whenever I hear you talk about yourself and your past, I feel like I am listening to you discuss another person entirely." Hermione took his hand in hers, feeling the stickiness of the paste between her skin and his. "That abomination within your skin is no more a part of you than that bedpost to your left. And your current circumstances are part of your redemption, Severus. Surely you can see that."

Severus rubbed his free hand across his face. He couldn't see it no matter how hard he tried. "If you only knew…" he trailed off, unable to recount his misdeeds, mostly because her hand gave his a gentle squeeze.

"You redeem yourself to the extent that you feel you deserve it," Hermione said. "And by the looks of you, I can tell you feel as though you shouldn't receive an ounce. I don't know what you did before you spurned the Dark Lord, and I don't want to know, not because I'm afraid it will scare me or make me think less of you, but because none of it matters now. You've moved past it and learned from it. You have repaid for your transgressions tenfold, and you are no more a Death Eater than you are a Muggle."

"Thank you," Severus fumbled, staring at the orange goo covering his arm. The weight of her words descended around him like a heavy cloud that threatened to crush his resolve. He wanted so very badly to believe her, but knew the only way he would finally be at peace with himself would be when the Lord Voldemort drew his final breath. "Perhaps when this is all over, I'll be able to hold myself in the same light you deem me worthy of."

"Then let us end it," Hermione said at once. "Our one step closer sits just downstairs. With the goblet destroyed, that will leave only the snake and the diadem of Ravenclaw."

Severus offered a weak smile in her direction. "As soon as we know—"

"That could be weeks, or months, even," Hermione said, looking determined. "I understand your concern, but—"

"No you don't." Severus's smile had evaporated, leaving a tired air in its wake. He hastily put the lid back on the bottle of paste and tossed it on the bed. "I cannot risk putting anyone in the house in danger, and I will not even consider destroying the Horcrux until I know I can uphold my obligation to keep you—all of you—safe."

" _Obligations_." Hermione repeated the word as though it tasted of vinegar. "You're not the only one with obligations, you know. We have been searching and searching for that thing, and now that we have it, we have to wait while he gets stronger. You can't deny it," she added, gesturing to the Dark Mark.

Severus stood abruptly, obviously frustrated. "What would you have me do, Hermione? I understand we don't have the luxury of time, but what we do have is the possibility of exploiting a potential weakness. Think about it: if we are all dead, the Dark Lord will have no use for the tethers binding him to this world."

"How can you be so sure he'll discard them?" Hermione shook her head, unconvinced. "As far as I know, the only way to get rid of them for good is either by destroying the receptacle or for the Dark Lord to feel remorse for what he's done, and I can't see him doing that, can you?"

"There may be another way, or at least a way that will make it easier," Severus said flippantly, which gave Hermione the inkling that he knew something she did not. "But it will take time, and proper planning, instead of running headfirst into the situation as the three of you typically prefer to do."

That statement seemed to have captured Hermione interest, and she stared at him as if waiting for him to elaborate. "You've found something, haven't you?"

"Merely a thought," Severus clarified, sounding as though he were exhausted. "I stumbled across the idea while pilfering Bellatrix's thoughts. I'm not sure she is truly grasps what the Dark Lord has told her about his Horcruxes."

Hermione made a face. "What makes you say that? Her husband seemed well aware of them."

"If she truly understood how they worked, Bellatrix would have been searching for the goblet instead of Potter," Severus answered simply.

"She would have been more concerned about keeping the Horcrux out of our reach, because they are his lasting defense," Hermione said, working through the small details.

Severus nodded. "Precisely, and from what I was able to gather from her thoughts, Bellatrix was not ignorant as to why the Dark Lord ordered it from her vault at Gringotts."

"It seems her desire to save her own skin trumped keeping her master out of harm's way," Hermione suggested. "I'm still not sure how her lapse of loyalty will help us find the other Horcruxes."

" _Time_ will tell," Severus said, dismissing the look of skepticism aimed his way. "I'm asking you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Hermione could feel her mouth curling downward, realizing she had just lost. "Trusting you has never been the issue; it's that cup that worries me. If it is anything like the other Horcruxes, it will bring out the worst in people."

"It will be long destroyed before it has a chance to sink its teeth into any of us. More information will have to be obtained from Bellatrix very soon," he added stolidly, giving the impression that there were very few tasks he wanted to do less.

Hermione laughed uneasily. "Like siphoning water from a rock."

_You have no idea,_ Severus thought, nodding in what appeared to be agreement. In truth, he had never seen a mental fortress such as Bellatrix's. Violent, unpredictable, and surrounded by a sense of staunch piety to the Dark Lord, Bellatrix Lestrange was harboring a fruitful skill Severus speculated her master knew nothing about. It appeared, after poking around in her mind, that he wasn't the only Death Eater capable of keeping secrets. Of course, Severus had already worked through the possible explanations as to why she was so deftly enlightened in the art Legilimency, considering it was done out of the Dark Lord's paranoia to ensure his livelihood should Bellatrix find herself captured. Plausible, yes, but altogether unlikely the more he weighed the possibility. Severus couldn't put his finger on the exact reason for her having such an impressively developed ability, but sensed that it was more for Bellatrix's own preservation than Lord Voldemort's.

"When do you intend to start?" Hermione said, her tone implying that she had repeated the question more than once.

Temporarily nonplused by the sudden expulsion from his speculative thoughts, Severus cleared his throat stiffly. "Perhaps as early as this evening," he said with forced indifference. "Provided she is cooperative."

The dubious expression that paid a visit to Hermione's face matched the silent pessimism churning in Severus's thoughts, and as he saw her out of his room and closed the door behind them, he realized he would have an easier time of squeezing water from the aforementioned rock than information willingly from Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

The remainder of the day at Spinner's End seemed to progress through a grey haze of swirling snow and quiet disconcertion. Everyone kept to themselves, fumbling with various tasks that only served to keep them from talking about the Horcrux or the Death Eater housed above their heads. Harry had finally emerged from his room but kept to himself in the kitchen, pouring over the tomes Ron had grown tired of. Ron had taken to lying on the sitting room floor, tossing a crumpled sheet of parchment in the air out of boredom. The indeterminate noises coming from Hermione, who sat knees-to-chest on the sofa with a book sprawled across the threadbare arm, had become background noise to Severus. Sitting close to the modest fire burning in the aged fire box, Severus looked fixedly at the flames although his mind was elsewhere.

The heat from the fire left him feeling claustrophobic, and a ghastly, grating feeling—something Severus likened to a devious spectre mixed of cynicism and failure—crept cleverly in the recesses of his thoughts. It was there, telling him how he had managed to make a mess of things by holding the Black sisters as hostages. The faint whispering told him he ought to silence Bellatrix for good and get on with it, casting caution to the wind and cheering for retribution. Severus shifted in his chair, casting a dark glance at the goblet still sitting atop the table, and briefly wondered if it had managed to bore its way into his head in the two hours he had been in its presence.  _Don't be absurd,_ he warned, absently stroking the Dark Mark that still pulsed under his shirt.

Feeling the heat, which he knew he should have attributed to the closeness of the burning coals, was the final straw that caused him to retreat from the sitting room. Severus stood from the armchair and walked purposefully into the kitchen, ignoring the curious gazes trailing after him. Having forgotten about Harry, Severus bounded through the door, eliciting a slight jump from the boy. It took every ounce of composure he could muster not to grin when he heard Harry's knee collide with the underside of the table. He waited, anticipating Harry to retort with some snide comment, as he poured himself a cup of tea at the other side of the room. Much to his displeasure, Harry remained silent and rubbed at his knee gingerly.

With nowhere else to go, Severus, with cup in hand, strode over to the table, taking the seat across from the young wizard that had become a rather irksome thorn in all of their sides. Harry's head was partially blocked by the massive book he had propped against several unopened tomes, and he appeared to be deep in study with his nose just inches from the book's pages. Harry Potter had never been that interested in any of his studies while at Hogwarts, and Severus wondered briefly if he was trying to show penance for what he'd done by spending hours reading over droning and equally unhelpful medieval text. He held Harry in lazy regard as he took a long pull from his steaming cup of tea, contemplating whether it was worth bringing up his transgressions.

"Professor," Harry said suddenly, and Severus raised a single brow in bored acknowledgement, "I want you to know that I am sorry."

Severus sat the teacup on the table; a bit of the amber-coloured liquid sloshed over the cracked rim, splattering across the table. He didn't bother cleaning it up, but rather held Harry with focused ill contempt. "That's all you have to say for yourself, have you? I suppose you think all is right with the world now that you have spoken your piece?"

Harry balked, his face turning an unsightly shade of white, and before he had time to gather his thoughts for reply, Severus fired again. "Your stupidity knows no bounds, Potter. You risked the lives of everyone in this house, and all you have to say for yourself is 'I'm sorry'? How many brushes with death will satisfy you?"

"I never asked you to follow me, much less to bring Ron and Hermione! It's not my fault you can't keep your big nose out of my business!"

"Bellatrix would've slaughtered you," Snape bit back. "You should be thanking your lucky stars that we showed up when we did. Otherwise we would have to take time off from hunting Horcruxes to bury you. You are foolish to think that you could have bested Bellatrix and Narcissa on your best day, much less in your weakened state."

"I am  _not_ weak."

"No, Potter, weak is not the word I would choose to describe you. You're more like a foolhardy child incapable of using rational thought. The hero complex you have runs bone-deep it as well, it seems."

Harry slammed the book in his hands shut with a deafening bang, and he was on his feet in an instant. Leaning inches from Severus's face, his green eyes were wild with furry. "That's what you think this is? Do you think I enjoy traipsing all over the country side, constantly fearing the day when I get word everyone I left behind has been killed or tortured? You know nothing about me, Snape, and what you think you know is only the result of your hatred for my father. I have no hero complex, but what I do have is a job to do, and I've never asked anyone to be a part of it. I never asked for  _any_ of this!"

"Do you think I've asked to be a part of this?!" Severus erupted, grabbing Harry hard around the collar. His voice had reached the dangerous depth he reserved for those who truly tested his patience, but it was the grim smile on his face that made it much worse. "Do you think I enjoyed risking life and limb time and time again? Screams from the countless victims I've seen tortured at the hands of my comrades follow me around like sick shadows. If that doesn't satisfy you, there is also the mercy killing of a mentor and friend, and that was all as a scheme to drive you forward, because Dumbledore knew you'd need the push." Severus increased his vice-like grip; his fingers dug sharply into Harry's shoulder, but his words were meant to cause the real pain. "I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive, and never have I asked for it, but I do it, and do it wisely, because it is my duty. Get off your pedestal, little boy, and start acting like the man you claim to be—we are  _all_  damned if you cannot do that."

Obdurate as his rapid anger appeared to be, Severus released Harry and sat back in the kitchen chair. The faint creaking of the wood and his own heart thudding in his ears ate away at the awkward silence. In that moment, Severus couldn't bring himself to look at the young wizard who had returned to his seat, though Harry was quite obviously staring at him. When he did venture a slight sideways glance, the expression on his face was such that Severus would have guessed Harry was truly seeing him for the first time.

Harry let out a shaky breath, and with it went his reservations of speaking freely in front of his former Professor. "I am going mad," he said, as though the idea suddenly came to him with blinding clarity.

Severus finally looked up, and seeing rueful green eyes staring directly at him, sensed he was about to be on the receiving end of an impromptu confession.

"The constant strain…" Harry stammered. "People don't understand, and not that I blame them, because I hardly understand it myself."

"Situations such as these do not discriminate, Potter. It comes down to how you handle yourself, and you do a piss-poor job of it. What happened back there—"

"Shouldn't have happened," Harry said. He thumped the spine of the old book with his finger, looking very much like a seventeen-year-old boy. "What if…what happens if I can't do this?"

"You don't have the advantage of choice."

"Not so different from you, then." It wasn't a question the way Harry said it, but more of a statement of fact.

"I am not the Chosen One," Severus answered. "And I do have a choice and make it every day."

"Because of my mother?"

Severus studied him as if searching for animosity hidden in his words. He found, much to his surprise, that it was a genuine question. "She is a pretext at best." He tilted his head enough to steal a glance at the archway leading into the sitting room. "There is far more at stake than mending my conscience over Lily, but at one point, yes, she was my reason for continuing down this path."

"But you felt responsible for what happened to her?"

Severus swallowed hard. "Every day."

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on the cover of the book. "And Dumbledore?"

Severus shifted in his chair, decidedly uncomfortable with the sudden round of questioning. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm trying to figure out how you do it," Harry said absently before adding, "how you deal with the guilt and grief of what you did or didn't do."

Staring into his cold cup of tea, Severus frowned. "No one is blaming you for what happened to Black or Albus if that is what you think."

"That doesn't matter," Harry said. "Not when you blame yourself."

"Use it for your gain!" Severus snarled. "Never allow guilt and grief the chance to turn to anger, Potter. Learn from it and move on, lest you want it to crush you. And believe me when I say it will do so whether you deserve it or not."

Harry shook his head, terribly frustrated but trying to choose his words wisely. "You say it like it's easy—"

"It's the hardest damn thing you'll ever do, and it is nothing you can be taught." Severus stood from his chair with the familiar impassive expression. "And I suggest you figure it out, because the longer you allow whatever this is to control you, the worse off we'll all be."

With wide, solemn eyes, Harry stared at the wood grains in the table, his finger tracing the various curves and swirls of the aged, pockmarked surfaced. It wasn't hard for Severus to tell Harry had become lost in his own agenda, though he put on a brave but unconvincing face for the world to see. Quite frankly, they didn't have time for that.

"People need someone to rally behind. You're that person whether you like it or not." Severus turned for the sitting room without second glance. "They want a savior, Potter, not someone who loses battles with his demons." He left Harry alone with the purposefully perverse warning, hardly hopeful the boy would find the hard facts it contained or the will to act his surprising epiphany. In Severus's opinion, Harry Potter didn't need to be mollycoddled as he so normally was. Nor would a simple scolding do the trick. No, what he really needed was a proper throttling with the truth. He needed to be held accountable for his actions, the good and the bad, and take a firm hold of the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. Only time would tell if it had worked.

When he entered the sitting room though the small adjoining hall, Ron and Hermione, who were talking very fast, with their heads close together, stopped at once. Severus had the sneaking suspicion that he was the topic of their conversation, as they had obviously overhead his exchange with Harry.

"How did he take that?" Ron asked merely to break the unpleasant silence. He would be lying if he said he didn't already know.

Irascible in mood, Severus sighed. "As well as you would expect."

"Harry needed to hear that," Hermione said. "And from you. Ron and I—" A loud thump rang down from the ceiling, choking her train of thought. It was followed by two more heavy bangs and then a blood curdling scream. Specks of dust fell as the racket continued, raining down on the three of them.

"It sounds like five kinds of hell up there," Ron mused, dusting the fine particles from his shirt. "Maybe they'll finish each other off and save us the trouble."

Severus bolted toward the staircase as a second, much more piercing scream drilled through the plaster above his head. He took to the steps two at a time, followed closely behind all three of his companions.

"Are they trying to break free?" Hermione called out. She, Ron and Harry had just appeared on the second floor landing with their wands drawn.

There was another horrid scream and the sound of muffled yells. "Stay back!" Severus ordered as he cast a Shield charm, blocking them from progressing any further into the hall.

As the three young wizards looked on helplessly, Severus ran his wand down the length of the door, waiting until he heard the click of the charmed lock. He pushed the door open slightly, so as to go unseen, and was taken aback by the scene that awaited him. Narcissa was lying supine, her sister pinning her shoulders hard to the floor.

Bellatrix was wild with fury and her hands found their way to her sister's throat. "How dare you sell me out to that bastard?!" Bellatrix delivered a sharp blow across Narcissa's face as she flailed; the sound of it echoed off the bare walls. "I'll break your fucking traitorous neck!" Narcissa squealed from beneath her sister, trying in vain to protect her face from the witch's talon-like finger nails.

"Bellatrix!" Severus roared. "Let her go!"

The dark witch paid no mind to Snape's admonition other than a quick, piercing glare in his direction. Undaunted, her attention turned back to her sister. She placed one hand on the top of Narcissa's head and the other poised under her chin. Then, with a violent jerk, Bellatrix lifted Narcissa off the floor. "I'm going to kill you," she shrieked in a voice filled with rage.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Bellatrix," Severus interjected as he pointed his wand at the furious witch. " _Vinciet_." Thick metal chains shot from the tip of Severus wand, binding the Death Eater's wrists to the wall behind her, and each time she struggled against the shackles, Bellatrix was drawn further away from Narcissa's body. Once Bellatrix's chains had carried her to the wall, Severus turned to Narcissa. "I trust that you will be on your best behavior without me having to resort to restraining you?"

Narcissa answered with a curt nod, wiping away the blood from her busted lip and nose with the back of her quivering hand.

"Very good," Severus replied before plucking a scrap of fabric from Narcissa's robes and transfiguring into a chair for himself. "Now then," he said as he gave a sideways glance to each witch, "it's time to start talking."

* * *

Author's Notes: As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated. Also, as a reminder for those interested, I am scheduled to begin posting an entirely new story to this archive. Posting of the new story will begin next Friday, and will span for four weeks—that's one chapter each Friday for the entire month of August. Stay tuned, and happy reading to all!


	29. Catechizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do you reckon those two snapped out of it all the sudden? I wouldn't think Snape is pants at using Unforgivables; him being a former—"
> 
> Hermione glared at Ron who had finally settled himself on the floor, his chin resting in his hand. The other hand was indiscreetly prodding at the invisible Shield Charm still holding them in place.

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 28**

Catechizing

"How do you reckon those two snapped out of it all the sudden? I wouldn't think Snape is pants at using Unforgivables; him being a former—"

Hermione glared at Ron who had finally settled himself on the floor, his chin resting in his hand. The other hand was indiscreetly prodding at the invisible Shield Charm still holding them in place. "Bellatrix supposedly has a knack for overcoming the Imperius Curse. It wouldn't matter how good anyone is at casting the curse if the one being cursed can work around it. Harry can do it, if you remember fourth year, though I would imagine he's not nearly as talented."

Harry chuffed. "Thank you."

"Well, you're not," she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "Very few people are, in fact. It takes concentration and control. As for Narcissa, I would imagine cognitive recalibration is to blame."

" _Cognitive recalibration_ ," Ron replied, as though he knew the answer all along. "We're not all a walking wealth of information, Hermione."

"Bellatrix knocked her loopy," Harry said. "If you get hit hard enough in the head it's bound to knock something loose, right?"

"That's the general idea," Hermione answered in response to the smug grin on Harry's face. "Been paying attention, have you?"

His smile grew garishly. "It's been known to happen once or twice."

Hermione stood abruptly from her spot on the floor. "Move over, Ron," she said as she approached the barrier just inches behind him. She reached out into the nothingness before her only to have her fingers collide with the charm. Hermione stepped back, flexing her fingers to relieve the slight numbness caused by the residual magic. "This is taking entirely too long."

"Let him deal with them. I want no part of what's inside their heads. Besides," Ron pressed on, noticing her hand moving toward her wand, "he'll be furious if we go past that."

"Not if Hermione does it," Harry chimed.

She spun around far quicker than the statement should have warranted. "What is that supposed to mean exactly?" Hermione said, her voice decidedly clam.

"Only an observation." Harry shrugged, masking a smirk.

"Don't be daft, Harry," she said. She waved her hand dismissively in the air as if to prove her point. "Professor Snape doesn't treat me any differently than the two of you. Now stop being ridiculous!"

Harry had intended to mention the fact that, while on the way to the loo, he saw her sitting on Snape's bed, with his hand in hers, but the stony expression on the man's face behind her caused his words to fade. Somehow, mentioning what he saw in front of not only Ron, but Snape didn't seem like the brightest decision.

"I'm only going to see if he's alright. It's been several minutes now." Hermione tried to sound casual as she gave Harry one final glance. "He'll never know the diff—"

Brown eyes met black when Hermione turned around and, out of fright, she nearly stumbled over Ron. Severus had obviously heard more of their conversation than she realized. He stood stock-still as his eyes roved over the three of them. They lingered long enough on Hermione to elicit a blush, but before their two companions could notice, he removed the Shield Charm.

"They are contained and ready to talk," Severus said. "Considering that we all need to be on the same page, the three of you should follow me."

"Contained?" Ron asked.

"As in chained to the wall, Weasley," he said, noticing his lack of comprehension. "Rest assured they won't harm one red hair on your head."

"That works for me," Harry said suddenly. He pushed past Ron and Hermione, heading straight for the opened door down the hall.

"Not so quick, Potter," Snape called to him, and Harry stopped. "I would advise you to keep track of your mouth and your temper. My previous threat still stands if you interfere. Understood?"

"I won't say anything," Harry answered, looking back at the three sets of eyes that studied him for deceit. "If I do, feel free to subdue me as all of you see fit."

Severus nodded and proceeded toward the room with Ron, Harry and Hermione trailing closely behind. "Wands away, lest they end up in the wrong hands," he instructed just as they approached the door.

"How helpful do you suppose they'll be?" Hermione said quietly, as though their captives were within earshot.

"Time will tell, as I told you." Severus ran his wand down the length of the door

The magic permeating from the door intensified as the foursome came to stand in front of the room. It was thick and suffocating, similar to a heavy blanket that couldn't be thrown to the side. Hermione suppressed her curiosity about the spells, and about what Severus had seen upon entering the room previously, but she suddenly felt entitled to know whether or not he felt their interrogating would prove worthwhile. From the hushed voices inside, it seemed as though the sisters weren't ready to talk at all.

"Don't tell them anything, Narcissa! Don't you do it," Bellatrix hissed at her sister, her voice full of wrath.

"I will tell them whatever I choose," Narcissa spat with almost equal vigor. "My surviving this no longer lies in your hands!"

"Wise of you, Narcissa," Snape said. "I'm impressed to see that you are starting to realize that the best way to save your own skin is to cooperate. Let's hear it then."

Narcissa hesitated, looking very quickly from Severus to Bellatrix.

"The consequences will be grave, Cissy! He will find out, and when he does, you will be finished!"

Narcissa knew about consequences. In fact, they were everywhere she looked, though she knew not which of them would prove to be the least troublesome. "You are not the only one hunted, Severus," she said finally. "The Dark Lord seeks—"

"How _dare_  you speak against the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix's voice cracked as her soprano-like shout erupted throughout the room. "How  _dare_ you tell them anything! The conspirator and his band of miscreant Mudblood sympathizers, if they don't kill you when they're through, I will!"

Snape turned on his heel to face the furious witch chained to the opposite wall. He walked toward her at a brisk pace and brandished his wand in her face. "You would do well to watch your tone," he said, his voice threatening.

"You're going to shut me up again, Snape?" Bellatrix taunted, roaring with laughter. "What great success you've had!"

His free hand was suddenly around her neck, pulling her forward. The chains binding her wrists grew taut. "I've always told you I would silence you, Bellatrix. Don't tempt me when I hold all of the power."

"You hold nothing," she seethed through clenched teeth, and when Severus's eyes locked with hers, Bellatrix's face went momentarily placid.

Severus smirked, feeling confident in his hurried spellwork. "You purport that I am powerless, yet it is you subject to my every whim. What shall I have you do?"

Bellatrix blinked heavily, fighting Snape's silent Imperius Curse, but was otherwise under his full control.

"Why don't you stand on one foot?" Severus said leisurely, and the Death Eater obeyed.

"Make her tell you what she knows," Harry said at once, seeing that Bellatrix had not succeeded in thwarting the curse.

"It won't work on her," Hermione whispered.

"I could do that, Potter," Severus answered, still studying the slightly twitching woman, "but I would rather hear it from Narcissa, as she is much more likely to tell the truth. You see, Miss Granger is correct. Bellatrix is rather gifted in countering the curse. With enough concentration, she can easily tell me what I want to hear instead of what I need to know, and I wouldn't be any the wiser."

"So you're just going to make her stand on one leg like an idiot?" Ron said, stunned.

"I intend to teach Madam Lestrange a lesson, Mister Weasley. While I can't force her to spill the truth hidden within, I am still very much in control of her—in a physical sense. For instance," Severus said, cocking his head in her direction, "I could easily make her bite off her own tongue."

A hideous sound filled the room, and Bellatrix's once calm face contorted with a mixture of panic and terror. Unable to keep herself upright while balanced on one foot, the witch crashed forward to her knees.

"I hold nothing, you daft, twisted slattern!?" Snape's word lashed like a whip through the garbled shrieks from Bellatrix and the gasps of dazed surprise from the others. He slammed his foot forward, pinning one of the chains shackling her wrists to the floor, and away from her mouth. "I should have you eat your own words, but that would require me to stoop to your level of depravity!" Severus flicked his wand, and Bellatrix's jaw went slack as blood began to pour from her tongue.

"You…you, fuckin' bastard!" Bellatrix half-shrieked, half-cried after she had spat out the blood that had pooled in her mouth. The sticky spray splattered over the toe of Snape's boot. "

Severus brandished his wand once more. "I'd choose my words, carefully, Bella. By now it should be perfectly clear that you are at my mercy."

Bellatrix gave him a look of defiance. "I would die before I'd tell you anything, Snape," she barked.

"Oh, I have no doubt that's true," Severus answered calmly before turning toward Narcissa. "However, I do not think your sister's resolve is quite so strong. Am I right about that, Narcissa?"

Narcissa kept her head down. "Whatever you want to know; I've already told you that I would cooperate."

"Very well. You said something about someone else being hunted. To whom were you referring?"

"Bellatrix," Narcissa answered. "The Dark Lord expected her to report back to him after she had killed the three of you. She didn't go back to him because she feared his reaction when he found out that Potter was actually alive. Lucius came home looking for Bellatrix on the Dark Lord's orders."

"Interesting," Severus mused. "So Bellatrix came back here looking for Mr. Potter so she could finish the deed. But why did you accompany her?"

"I've told you already, Severus. To protect my family. Bella put us all in danger when she made the decision to come to our home and tell us that the boy was not dead. If the Dark Lord became angry with her, he would take it out on us for not turning her in."

Severus thought about her answer for a moment. "And why, exactly, did you not turn her in? I can't imagine Lucius was too agreeable to showing her clemency."

Bellatrix snorted, rolling her eyes. "Little Lucie tried, didn't he, Cissy?"

"And I should have let him!" screeched Narcissa, shooting a murderous look at her sister.

"Quickly landing yourself right alongside him and that disappointment you call a son." Bellatrix's bloodied tongue swept across her lips obscenely as she gestured to Ron and Hermione who stood near the door. "And when he finds out what we've done, Narcissa, we'll be no better than those two; A Blood traitor and a Mudblood." She spat again, dotting the floor with flecks of blood. "Are you prepared to go against the Dark Lord?"

"He is not my Lord, Bellatrix," said Narcissa. "It means very little to me what he thinks."

"You should not be so casual," Severus warned, and at that Narcissa appeared to lose what nerve she possessed. "This is far from over, but with what you can tell me, we can hope to intervene before it becomes too late for us all."

"Listen to me, Narcissa!" Bellatrix shouted again, but Narcissa turned away before she could elaborate.

"Either silence her, Severus," Narcissa interjected, "or take me somewhere that we can discuss what you need to know. I've developed a headache. "

Severus nodded and turned to Bellatrix. "I hope you won't think us rude, Bella, but I'm afraid we must be going. It seems as if everyone has had quite enough of your company for one evening." The door opened with a wave of Severus's wand. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exited the room first. Severus motioned to Narcissa to follow them before stepping through the door and sealing the exit behind him. Within moments, the five of them were in the sitting room on the lower floor.

"How does he know this isn't some bid for freedom?" Ron whispered to Hermione as they shuffled around to their seats.

"I've nowhere else to go," said Narcissa flatly as she tried with little success to press the wrinkles from her clothes.

Red-faced, Ron fell silent while Severus directed the blonde witch to the wingback chair in the corner before going to the sofa between Harry and Hermione. Several uncomfortable seconds passed before Snape motioned toward the golden goblet sitting on the rickety table.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, levitating it off the table with a silent spell.

"It's a goblet," she said calmly, sitting on the edge of the chair. "I thought you wanted to discuss what it is I know?"

"We are," Severus said, not bothering to tear his gaze from the floating cup. "This isn't just any goblet, Narcissa. It belonged to one Helga Hufflepuff."

Narcissa swallowed, working loose the top button of her cloak. "The Hogwarts co-founder?"

With a simple movement of Severus's wand, the cup floated through the air, coming just inches from where Narcissa sat. The witch glanced warily at Snape as though searching for permission to reach out and take it. Before she could grab it, however, the cup fell in her lap.

Narcissa held it up by a single handle as though it were a piece of rubbish. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"It belonged to Voldemort," Harry snapped. "In fact, a little bit of him is still within it."

Narcissa stared at the gleaming cup uncomprehendingly, then to Severus as though waiting for him to elaborate. "What does he mean?"

"I mean it's a Horcrux," Harry said somewhat more patiently. "Part of his soul is encased within the cup."

At that, Narcissa dropped the goblet as if burned. She quickly drew her feet up in the chair with a look that suggested she believed the chalice would sprout legs and come after her. "Part of his soul, part of him…  _Part_  of him! Does that mean he's here now? Can he…can he see or hear me?"

"We're not entirely sure," Hermione said with a smug expression, noticing Narcissa's ice blue eyes growing large with panic.

"We are hoping that you will be able to tell us something about it," Severus said. "Seeing as it was once housed in the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts..."

"I've never seen it before," Narcissa said quickly, not taking her eyes from its gleaming surface.

Severus's face remained impassive as he said, "I did not ask you if you had seen it before, I asked if you had any inkling of its existence or nature."

"A bit out of your pay grade?" said Ron hotly when she did not respond right away. He received a grim glare from Snape.

Narcissa frowned. "You are a fool, boy. And to answer your question: I have heard mention of them, much to my disappointment."

Severus drew himself up in his seat, his hand chin resting on his hand as if in deep thought. He could not help but noticed how Narcissa was shaking slightly all over. "How is it a disappointment?"

"The less you know about them the better. The Dark Lord only told those he trusted implicitly, Lucius and Bella being among the select few."

"Lucius told you?" Severus probed, suddenly seeing what appeared to be awareness flash across her face.

Narcissa studied Snape for a few moments, trying with great difficulty to prevent what she really wanted to say from coming to light. "The Dark Lord should have told you. You were his most trusted servant," she sputtered finally, waving a single hand in frustration. "What makes you think I would know anything about his secrets? I am not even part of the inner circle!"

"How is it you know something, then?" Harry asked before Severus could utter a single word. "Either you know or you don't."

"It was mentioned to me in passing only once. Only it wasn't about the goblet. It was an old book, a journal I believe." Narcissa nodded toward Ron. "Lucius slipped it to one of his lot."

"Yeah, and your stupid husband nearly killed my sister!" Ron erupted.

Narcissa gave an uncommitted shrug, but seemed otherwise uninterested. "My  _sincerest_  apologies."

Ron suddenly bolted to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. He stared at Narcissa as if trying to figure out how to make her spontaneously combust. Narcissa merely smiled sweetly, but remained silent, patiently waiting for him to speak, though it was clear she expected him to lash out instead. "Yes?"

Ron swore at her nonchalance under his breath, and spun on his heel. He stomped through to the kitchen and out of sight but not before striking the thick wooden paneling lining the wall with his balled fist, leaving a small smudge of blood in his wake. Several loud bangs rang down through the hall, prompting Severus to direct Harry to control his friend before he broke something, leaving he and Hermione alone with Narcissa.

"That was uncalled for," Hermione said coldly, but Narcissa looked pleased.

"As I was saying," Narcissa said, clearly dismissing the subject, "Lucius was entrusted with the journal, prior to the Dark Lord's first fall. I tried numerous times to persuade him to discard it, but he said he could not until the time was right. I never pressed for information, nor did he care to elaborate. It wasn't until after Potter destroyed it that I learned of its true purpose, that he had somehow encased himself within its pages."

Severus shook his head, unimpressed with the information Narcissa had provided. "He didn't think a child could destroy a sliver of the Dark Lord, did he?"

"Of course not!" she replied, outraged. "He was fearful and rightfully so, because the Dark Lord requested to know the whereabouts of his _belongings_  the moment he arose. He was furious."

Severus made a disgruntled sound, shaking his head. He knew of the diary belonging to the Dark Lord, and had even examined it at Dumbledore's request for any explanation as to how it succeeded in possessing the youngest Weasley child. After every diagnostic spell, it remained a simple, yet destroyed bound booklet of parchment with no trace of Dark magic. She had basically told them everything they already knew. "Is that all?"

Narcissa shook her head fleetingly. "Hardly, but as I said Lucius would never divulge everything he knew about the book."

Severus rose to his feet, coming to stand directly in front of her. When he bent down, placing both hands on the armrests of the chair, Narcissa shrank back as far as the upholstery would allow. "Have you not understood what I have told you? If you cannot tell me everything, Narcissa, and I mean down to the last insignificant detail, then I cannot help you when the time comes. I can only help you as much as you help yourself."

"What exactly do you want to know about it?" she said with a hint of impatience. "I've told you I've never seen the cup before now, and have only heard mention of the stupid journal, and that was years ago. All I know about your piece of the Dark Lord is that he would not take kindly to it being in your possession, and you should hope he never discovers it now that Potter lives."

"That was why he was furious, wasn't it? The time wasn't right when the diary was destroyed."

Both Severus and Narcissa looked to Hermione, who was now standing with an opened copy  _of Secrets of the Darkest Arts_. "As long as Harry lives, You-Know-Who has a use for the Horcruxes. Ron was right. That's why he left it behind. Harry is as good as dead, and considering that only those in You-Know-Who's innermost circle know of his use of the Horcruxes, he doesn't care what happens to them, because no one who is a threat knows of their existence."

"We've already discussed this, Hermione." Severus sighed, looking irritable. "That is merely a theory, and a slipshod one at that."

Hermione snapped the book shut with a loud thump, tossing it on the sofa. "Then what else would explain his sudden disinterest in the sodding thing?"

Narcissa, who had been busy listening to their heated exchange, vaguely laughed. "He has more important matters to attend to."

Snape gave her a quizzical look. "Be more specific."

"He plans to fully overthrow the Ministry, of course. It is only a matter of time now that his greatest enemy has been destroyed."

Hermione looked as though she would like to protest but Severus was much faster. "No. We would know of such a threat. He cannot have the numbers to achieve such a feat."

"You have made short work of those he trusted beyond all others," Narcissa said. "Dolohov, Rodolphus, Rowle, to name a fair few, but there are many, many more eager to step into their shoes. Promises of untold power and privilege. You know how the Dark Lord operates, manipulating people for his gain. He has promised his followers the world if they succeed for him, Lucius and Draco included."

"What of Bellatrix?" Hermione said fiercely. "Surely he would want his second in command by his side."

Narcissa wiped a stay strand of hair from her face. "Not just by his side, but leading the upheaval."

"While he safely waits in the shadows to reap the spoils," Severus added, barely breathing. This news was nearly too much to process at one time. "What do you know of his timeline? Surely Lucius or Bellatrix have mentioned something of consequence to you."

"Bellatrix would never." Narcissa's tone throbbed with resentment. "To her the Dark Lord's word is law. Lucius on the other hand… he said as soon as Potter was dead, they would move forward at the Dark Lord's request."

"Then why hasn't he moved to strike?" Hermione demanded, looking gravely serious. "Why hasn't he done something?"

"Bellatrix's disappearance," Severus said absently. "He needs her, because there is no one left he truly trusts to see the deed to its end."

"As I said," Narcissa began, "you aren't the only one hunted. I suspect you are correct about the Dark Lord's plans, though Lucius did not specifically say when he discovered Bella in our home. He was more concerned about following his orders."

"She said Malfoy tried to apprehend her…" said Hermione, breaking the strained silence.

Narcissa looked on, stone-faced. "Tried, yes. Lucius did not expect her to fight back."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, calmly.

"Honestly, Severus!" Narcissa said, with a slight flash of annoyance. "It's like you don't know who we're discussing at all. Bella is prepared to drop everything at a moment's notice when the Dark Lord calls. Something had her frightened beyond anything I have ever seen…I think you realize exactly what that something was, and how adamant Lucius was to bring her forward once he discovered her reasoning."

Severus felt and odd sensation deep in the pit of his stomach, almost like someone had swiftly pulled his feet from under him. Lucius was a loose end and a dangerous one at that. He had good reason to report everything he knew to Voldemort because, as he typically did, the Dark Lord considered Narcissa and Draco as collateral to ensure Lucius did his bidding as instructed and to the best of his ability. There was no doubt in Severus's mind that Lucius had already reported the news to the Dark Lord that his Killing Curse had failed for the second time, and that Harry Potter's small band of resistance stood at his side.

"Lucius knows that we are alive, then," Severus thought aloud.

" _Knew_ ," Narcissa corrected, firmly. "I agreed to help Bellatrix find Potter only on the condition that we wipe Lucius and Draco's memories. I couldn't allow the Dark Lord to find out that they knew you lot were alive. I don't think I need to explain why."

"No, that won't be necessary," Severus conceded. "However, I'm afraid that I'll have to take a look into your mind nonetheless. I don't think I need to explain why."

"You don't trust me," Narcissa answered curtly.

"I trust very few these days, Narcissa. Don't take it personally." Severus pointed his wand at Narcissa's forehead. "Legilimens!"

Severus soon found himself in the mind of Narcissa Malfoy and immediately began searching for the memory of the encounter at Malfoy Manor. It was only a few moments before Severus found what he was looking for. He listened as Lucius and Bellatrix argued over reporting to the Dark Lord. He watched as Bellatrix hexed Lucius and Draco into motionless heaps on the floor. He watched Bellatrix pleading with Narcissa for help, and finally, he saw what he had hoped to see – Narcissa and Bellatrix performing the Obliviate spell on the Malfoy men. Satisfied with what he had seen, Severus exited the mind of Narcissa Malfoy with a jolt.

"I believe that will be all tonight," Severus said after several seconds. "We should all get some sleep."

"What?" Harry asked in disbelief, having watched their entire exchange from the hall. "What did you see? What do we do now?"

"Those, Mister Potter, are questions best left for tomorrow morning, after we've all had some rest." Severus turned to Narcissa. "Follow me. I trust you do not wish to continue rooming with your sister. I'll find you more suitable accommodations." Narcissa nodded and followed Severus out of the room as Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged confused looks.

"Well, I reckon sleep isn't such a bad idea," Ron said, breaking the silence as he came into view. Harry and Hermione acquiesced and the three of them retired to their rooms, still unsure of what awaited in the morning.

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**Author's Notes:**  Let's finish this tale, shall we? As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated, and I wish each of you many enjoyable hours of reading! 


	30. Wherein The Lines Overlap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At breakfast the following morning, Narcissa Malfoy’s hands were sweating. She blamed the increased perspiration on the hot cup she cradled in her hands, though truly the cause was the unsettling atmosphere filling the kitchen.

  
****Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.  
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* * *

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**Chapter 29**

Wherein the Lines Overlap

  
At breakfast the following morning, Narcissa Malfoy’s hands were sweating. She blamed the increased perspiration on the hot cup she cradled in her hands, though truly the cause was the unsettling atmosphere filling the kitchen. She had been summoned from her “new” accommodations—an old broom closet near Severus’s bedroom that had been enchanted into something infinitesimally more fitting—by the Boy Who Lived. Harry only had to knock once before she appeared, eager to escape her windowless confine. She felt like the old Black family house-elf, Kreacher, who haunted the cobweb-ridden bowels of her late uncle’s home, only more disliked. She considered again as she was escorted down the stairs, that her situation, while inconvenient, was more favorable than what her sister was receiving. Narcissa thought of Bellatrix receiving a bowl full of cold gruel and watered-down tea and felt her satisfaction stir.  
  
She had gone down with Harry when he asked rather pointedly if she’d like anything to eat, but considering now that she was pressed as far against the wall as she could manage, Narcissa wished her captors would have slid a bowl of runny porridge under door and left her alone. The plate in front of her sat untouched, the scrambled eggs a grayish, yellow colour from overexposure to the air and the toast soggy from the preserves. Once or twice she swatted away an errant fly to save the plate’s contents out of courtesy, but finally resigned to pretending not to exist for her own sake. Narcissa couldn’t blame them, of course, if placed in their situation, but their suspicion and wary glances had nonetheless soured her stomach.  
  
“Are you finished?” A voice asked suddenly.  
  
She ventured a guess that it was one of the boys, Potter perhaps, but did nothing to confirm her speculation. Instead, Narcissa felt her chest tighten, and she nodded without looking up. The plate and its cold food disappeared from her line of sight, leaving only a crescent of condensation on the wooden surface of the aged table below. She pushed her hand back through her tousled hair, feeling the swelling atop her head from Bellatrix’s assault. How ridiculous she must have looked sitting there with  _them_ , with her battered face and dirty, days old clothes, pretending that they were all civilized beings.  _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , she thought, which promptly caused her to frown.  
  
Narcissa continued to prod at her bruised scalp, thinking of how her hosts had not been friendly nor overly surly. In fact, while they ate in silence, they did not bother to even acknowledge her. Their inane conversations about who had slept the most uncomfortably or who was going to clean the kitchen once they’d finished their meal were the most taxing to have to listen to. And if they weren’t talking nonsense, they weren’t talking at all. Narcissa didn’t expect them to discuss any of their plans given her presence. They had probably already done it. What she had not anticipated was the deep loathing she felt for having been subjected to their silent treatment.  
  
Once, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see Severus look away from her at that exact moment. It wasn’t the issue of him looking at her that irritated her most, but rather the slight sneer that briefly stole over his face. It was then that Narcissa knew they were toying with her, or so she believed.  
  
“If you want something for that,” Severus said, pausing momentarily to take a sip of tea, “You need only ask.”   
  
Narcissa rubbed a hand across her mouth, feeling the cracked skin and swollen flesh from her split lip. The dull throb from her injuries was beginning to weigh heavily on her already dilapidated mood, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept anything Severus Snape was offering.  
  
“It will pass,” she said in a little yet, solid voice.  
  
“Stop being deliberately stubborn, and allow me to help you.” Severus jerked his wand toward the doorway, and moments later, a tiny glass bottle came hurdling into the kitchen. He reached up and caught it as it flew forward. The glass was a silvery colour and fit neatly in his palm. The label, written in his handwriting read Deflating Draught. “Besides, you are going to need your wits about you for what we’re about to ask you to do.”  
  
“Here,” said a voice that did not belong to Severus. Narcissa looked up to see Hermione with her arm thrust down into a purple bag. “The Deflating Draught will only help the swelling. You’ll want to use this for the bruising.” She produced a yellow cylindrical tube with the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes monogram on its side.  
  
Narcissa cast an appraising glance toward the tube and crossed her arms over her chest. “What is  _this_ , exactly?”  
  
“Bruise removal paste. It works within the hour.” Hermione smiled at Narcissa as she held it out, but when the gesture was not returned, she tossed the ointment atop the table, and left the room.  
  
Harry and Ron, who had watched the exchange with distaste, made to follow Hermione into the sitting room, but just after Ron passed the table, he turned back. “Next time someone offers you help that you don’t deserve, I’d be quicker about accepting it if I were you.” Ron’s hand hit the table with a thunderous bang, causing Narcissa to start with a small cry. As he watched her ice blue eyes narrow, his fist closed around the tube. “Since this isn’t good enough for you, I’ll do you a favour and return it to Hermione.”  
  
Severus watched Ron as he left the room without saying another word. When he shifted his gaze back to Narcissa, he noticed her face had taken on a greenish hue and her eyes, slightly unfocused, stared at the silver glass bottle on the table.   
  
“Do you want this, or shall I send it back to the lavatory?” Severus asked. The surliness radiating from his voice was enough to make her wince. Before he could say anything further, Narcissa seized the bottle and quickly downed the single dose of potion. “Better. As I was saying, I am going to need you to concentrate on the task at hand.”  
  
“What task would that be?” Narcissa rolled the slender neck of the bottle between her fingers, refusing to meet his gaze. It was hard for Severus to decide if it was fear she was trying to hide or her doubt.  
  
“While you’ve told me everything you know,” he said, pausing to gather his thoughts. “Bellatrix, I feel, is still a walking plethora of information.”  
  
“You can’t honestly believe she will tell you anything more.” Narcissa’s lips were drawn back over her teeth in a subdued sort of amusement. It was blatantly clear she felt all of his efforts were for naught, that she thought him ridiculous for even considering it again.  
  
“No. I am not stupid enough to believe she will tell me anything, which brings me to you. You are her blood—”  
  
“Blood means very little to her,” Narcissa said hastily. “And at the moment, I would assume Bellatrix would rather like to see mine covering the floor.”  
  
“That is where you and I disagree,” Snape answered. “In this house, you are her only ally. I am asking you to play the part.”  
  
“ _Play the part_.” Narcissa laughed. It was a lighthearted, derisive sound, but it did little to hide her astonishment at his pomposity. “What do you expect me to do? Wail about how you’ll surely kill us if we don’t cooperate? That is precisely what she wants!”  
  
“You are an intelligent person, Narcissa, not to mention convincing when the time calls for it,” Severus said with hollow reassurance. Sometimes he truly questioned her sanity, though he wasn’t about to let that observation slip. “If she doesn’t care if she dies here, she will certainly care about having to face the Dark Lord should I allow her to live. The two of you have become a liability, even to yourselves. I wonder,” he pressed on, “What she would do if I were to release her to the Dark Lord?”  
  
“You wouldn’t take that risk, and she knows it,” Narcissa admitted.  
  
“I wouldn’t? It would spare me the trouble of adding more blood to my already sullied hands. An untraceable Portus Charm would do the trick, I think. Bound and gagged, the both of you would be transported straight to Hogwarts, and no one would have a clue as to where you came from.” Severus paused, watching as Narcissa frowned with uneasiness. “It would only take one audience with the Dark Lord to condemn the two of you of treason. If he has the numbers to overthrow the Ministry, he will have the numbers to grind you and everything you hold dear to dust. You would be dead before you hit the ground, and that is only if you have fate on your side.”  
  
Narcissa had gone still. “No,” she said in a timid voice. When it came out, it sounded more like a plea. “Bellatrix would not take kindly to that scenario.”  
  
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Severus stood abruptly, gesturing in a gentlemanly manner for her to accompany him. Narcissa lurched to her feet, desperately pale and close to shaking. “And provided you are able to gather enough information about the Horcrux,” he said, “I won’t be forced to resort to such measures.”  
  
Severus’s comment wiped Narcissa’s face clean of any such relief she found in his notion, and as she was followed out of the kitchen, a waxy colour seeped into her complexion that betrayed any semblance of composure she tried to show. They came to the sitting room where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were conversing. Out of the corner of her eye, Narcissa saw a bizarre sight that made her stop in her tracks. She turned around to see Hermione sitting in a chair and holding what was certainly a severed human ear. “What on earth are you doing with that?” Narcissa gasped.  
  
“It’s for you, actually,” Hermione replied, extending the ear to Narcissa. Narcissa drew her hand back as her face contorted with disgust. “Would you relax!” Hermione chided in an exasperated tone. “It’s not real. It’s an Extendable Ear; Ron’s brothers make them at their shop. It will allow us to hear your conversation with Bellatrix without having to go into the room.”  
  
“We believe she will be more likely to talk if you don’t have an audience,” Severus said. He took the appendage from Hermione, and shrank it to an inconspicuous size before taking hold of Narcissa’s arm and shoving it down the sleeve of her robes. “I don’t think I need to explain the importance of keeping it hidden.”   
  
Narcissa squirmed. “No, that is perfectly evident to me, thank you.”  
  
“What about the string?” Harry asked suddenly. “Doesn’t it need the string attached to work?”  
  
“Normally, yes,” Hermione explained. “However, I’ve done some tinkering and improved the design a bit.” She pulled another ear from her pocket. “These two ears are connected by magic. We will be able to listen through this one, eliminating the need for the string.”  
  
“Bloody brilliant,” Ron observed. “You know, Hermione, you could probably get a job at Fred and George’s shop with ideas like that.”  
Hermione shot Ron a perturbed look. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
“All right,” Severus interrupted. “It’s time we get on with this.” He grabbed Narcissa’s arm and dragged her up the staircase. “Should you have second thoughts, remember our previous discussion and give careful consideration to the consequences.”  
  
Narcissa responded with a curt nod. Severus’s grip on her arm tightened as they reached their destination. “Forgive the rough handling, Narcissa. Appearances must be preserved.” With that, Severus pointed his wand at the wall and threw Narcissa through the freshly-opened portal.   
  
She landed on the hardwood floor with a thud, narrowly avoiding falling flat on her face. She looked up to see her sister still chained to the wall and giving her a most incredulous stare.  
  
“What did you tell them, Cissy? Did you betray the Dark Lord to that greasy, Half-blood traitor? Are you a traitor now, too?” Bellatrix looked wistfully from her sister to the chains holding her in place, examining them as though searching for a weakness. “For your sake, I should hope not.”  
  
“You speak as though thwarting the Dark Lord has been my greatest ambition!” Narcissa shouted. “Need I remind you that we are in this position because of you!?”  
  
The chains made a great clanking noise as Bellatrix jerked forward, blood dripping down the links at her wrists. “Careful, Narcissa. You are quick to blame, but fatally slow of mind. Do you truly think the Dark Lord will believe you over me; that he will see you as an innocent? You betrayed your blood and your Lord!”  
  
“I didn’t tell them anything, Bellatrix!” Narcissa shrill voice burst forth about the room. She advanced on her sister only to jab her finger painfully into her chest as she spoke. “Even I had wanted to, what could I have told him? The Dark Lord tells me nothing – you know that! I can’t even lie to them, because _I know nothing_!”  
  
“Not for lack of trying, I would guess…” Bellatrix glared at her sister with suspicion. “What did they ask you?”  
  
“Something about a goblet... As I recall, they said it used to be housed in your vault at Gringotts.”  
  
Bellatrix’s eyes widened with a combination of fear and rage. “Impossible. It is the Dark Lord’s property; it is with the Dark Lord.”  
  
“I don’t know if it is his, but they have a golden goblet,” Narcissa answered calmly. “In fact, it’s here in this house as we speak.”  
  
“That is not possible.”  
  
“I have seen it!” Narcissa paused to carefully consider what she would say next. “They believe it is important to the Dark Lord. They think it houses part of his soul, and they mean to destroy it.” Bellatrix fell silent. It was obvious that her mind was racing, desperate to come up with some solution. Finally, Narcissa noticed a smile begin to form on her sister’s face. “What? Is that a good thing?”  
  
“Of course it is, Cissy. If they manage to destroy it, the Dark Lord will know. They will give away their whereabouts. He would be here in a matter of moments.”  
  
“And how is that good thing?” Narcissa asked. She considered her sister coolly, trying to decide her motives and her reasoning. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was churning in her head. “Weren’t you just going on about how he would kill you for not finishing off Snape and the others? Why are you so excited for his arrival?”  
  
“What is the alternative?” Bellatrix said with a sudden contempt that caused Narcissa’s skin to crawl. “I’m chained to a fucking wall and it’s only a matter of time before the same happens to you. The longer we are here the less useful we become. As you said, you know nothing, and I would rather die before I speak a word against the Dark Lord.”  
  
The Extendable Ear hidden up Narcissa’s sleeve was starting to itch, and she shuddered, trying to forget that she had an audience listening to her every word. She balled her hands into fists at her side to keep from touching the foul thing. “Then give me something, Bellatrix! Anything that might placate Severus until we can figure out what to do.”  
  
Bellatrix laughed, though the sound was laced with a bit of mockery. “We? There is only me, and I will do whatever necessary to remain in the Dark Lord’s favour.”  
  
“By knowingly sacrificing a part of his soul? I remember the days after he discovered Lucius had lost his diary; the night terrors, the ongoing spasms from the Dark Lord’s curse. Lucius was fortunate to have survived—” Narcissa swallowed hard, unable to finish her words when she saw the perversely happy expression that had settled over her sister’s face. She was filled with the immense desire to slap the demented grin from Bellatrix’s face, but panic was there, too, flooding her senses so that she found it hard to breathe. Something wasn’t right, off in some clandestine way. “You have no intention of facing his wrath, do you?”  
  
The smile on Bellatrix’s face grew into something Narcissa couldn’t bear to see. It was a subtle, dangerous leer that she had seen on the Dark Lord’s face on more than one occasion, the sort of look he reserved for those who hadn’t realised they were already dead where they stood.   
  
“The moment you turned your wand on me you became my salvation. I had not realised it was so at that moment, and almost wasted my chance to use you one last time, but now… Now I see it for the golden opportunity that it is.” Bellatrix licked her lips and cocked her head upward as though contemplating what to say next, only she didn’t say another word, and Narcissa could feel her blood begin to boil.  
  
In her chest she felt a white-hot, icy feeling, as if someone was pushing pins and needles into her lungs. “He would never forgive you,” Narcissa finally said aloud, though she wasn’t sure if she was speaking to herself or to Bella. Anger followed immediately after. “He would never believe that you didn’t have a hand in this!”  
  
“Oh, he most certainly would. After all, what other choice did I have? I was cursed underhandedly by my own sister, delivered on a silver platter by my own blood to his enemies.” Bellatrix jerked her chains. The cuts where the metal had bitten into her wrists oozed slowly with more red. “Held captive and questioned, not only by the very man I could have killed had I not been cursed, but by the sister who did the cursing.”  
  
Narcissa’s pulse drummed in her ears. “You are delusional, Bellatrix. You failed the Dark Lord. You dragged me along on some wild chase even after I suggested you should have returned to him in the first place.  _You_  came into my home, cursed Lucius when he tried to take—”  
  
“And you helped me wipe their memories of the entire encounter. As I said, you are not and never will be an innocent in the Dark Lord’s eyes.” Bellatrix’s slender, skeletally pale hand extended toward Narcissa as far as her constraints would allow, and a bony finger pointed directly at her face, as if they were children again and she was about to accuse her of some juvenile slight. “You will take the fall for both of us, and for me having to sacrifice a part of his soul in order to ultimately see that he prevails. That goblet is not the only secret belonging to the Dark Lord, and its price will never be as heavy as the heads of Harry Potter and Severus Snape.”  
  
The silence between them was sudden and suffocating. Their eyes met and they stared at each other as if seeing the other clearly for the first time. The lines had been drawn, and they had landed themselves on either side of the gulch of betrayal that had opened up at their feet. Bellatrix, with her blank expression, carried no sense of regret for having made the decision to leave Narcissa to the wolves. In fact, she appeared to find delight in the harsh glare Narcissa had fixed on her.  
  
She was mocking her, Narcissa could tell by the maddeningly sardonic smirk she could see curling in her lips. Before she realised she had taken several steps forward, Narcissa seized Bellatrix around the neck, taking extra care to place her fingers in such a way that would cut off enough air to cause panic. “I would rather die because I betrayed you, than live because I betrayed them.” Bellatrix made a deep garbled noise, as though she was close to retching. Narcissa promptly tightened her hold. “Just when I think I couldn’t hate you more, it festers and grows into something I can hardly stand. I will take the blame for nothing, and I will rejoice in watching the one you love above all others cut your bonds of servitude and hang you with them.” Narcissa gave one final squeeze, which she was sure would leave angry, hand-shaped bruises and turned away.  
  
“Don’t turn your back, you bitch!” Bellatrix managed, her words slurred as a result of her near-strangling. “You will suffer as no creature has suffered before!”  
  
Narcissa paused for a moment, furious enough to rip Bellatrix’s head from her shoulders. She thought back to what Severus had told her, that she needed to play her part convincingly—the urge to laugh at such a request was overwhelming. It was never about being an ally; Bellatrix had no use for an ally, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have found one in her sister. No, what Bellatrix needed was someone who could be just as cold and numb as she, and Narcissa had had years of practice and ample cause to do just that. “What do you mean I will suffer?” she finally replied in a lowered tone, slowly turning to face Bellatrix once more.  
  
Bellatrix frowned. She appeared to dislike the assertiveness with which Narcissa spoke, and was having a difficult time not looking away, not appearing weak. Narcissa wanted to laugh in her face, to mock the thick blue-black blemishes that were beginning to appear around her neck, but instead, she retrieved the Extendable Ear hidden within her sleeve. “Severus has heard everything you’ve said. Your plan is null, and you and you alone will be the one to suffer. The Dark Lord will have his vengeance, and he will take it from you until the score is settled. ”  
  
The ear landed at their feet with a soft sound, and as if on cue, an opened door appeared to reveal Severus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the other side. Narcissa looked back at her sister for an instant, prompting Bellatrix to begin screaming curses at the group before she stepped outside and the wall became solid once more. The four pairs of eyes that appraised her as she slipped past them made her sick. Narcissa didn’t bother looking back as she retreated to her broom-cupboard room a few steps down the hall, slamming the door with an ostentatious bang.   
  


*****

  
  
Narcissa remained in her room for several hours before she heard a knock at the door. She did not respond, hoping that whoever was disturbing her would take the hint and go away. Much to her dismay, she heard another knock a few seconds later. Still, she sat silently. Another moment passed before she heard Hermione’s voice on the other side of the door.  
  
“Stay in there if you like, but I thought I’d let you know dinner is ready.”  
  
Narcissa, who had resolved to stay away from her captors for the rest of the day, had now been made acutely aware of the pangs of hunger assaulting her stomach. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten, but could not do so. Reluctantly, she rose from her bed and checked her appearance in the mirror before heading downstairs. The food was a far cry from what she had grown accustomed to at Malfoy Manor, but she devoured it nonetheless.  
  
After everyone had finished their meal, Severus began brewing tea in the kitchen. Narcissa was relieved when the three teenagers took their mind-numbing prattle to the sitting room and out of her earshot. Her relief was cut short, however, by Severus sitting a cup of steaming tea in front of her. She could tell immediately that the tea was a mere pretense for Severus joining her.  
  
“Something is troubling you,” Severus remarked from across the table. He took a long draw from his teacup and waited for Narcissa to respond. Finally bloodshot eyes met his, looking awkward and in a perpetual state of shock when compared to her demure expression.  
  
“What doesn’t trouble me,” Narcissa said despite not wanting to rattle her fragile nerves.  
  
Snape smirked over the rim of his cup. “You did well.”  
  
The manner in which the phrase slithered from him served to only grate on her nerves further. His complacent nature in the face of the world around them on the cusp of chaos was unnerving, and even though they now fought a common enemy for their own reasons, Narcissa still struggled to look at him with anything but dislike. There wasn’t anything left inside of her but loathing.  
  
“I feel like I’ve dug myself into a pit.” Her voice was unsteady with truth, but she felt some tension drain from her for having finally said it.  
  
“And you’ve resigned yourself to it, have you?” Severus asked, his brow furrowing with what Narcissa thought to be forced sympathy. “Such a shame, that.”  
  
“What choice do I have?” Narcissa held her arms out wide as though about to welcome the hell around her with an embrace. “My options are limited, and every day the line I walk grows thinner.”  
  
Severus settled himself back in his seat, propping his legs in the chair next to Narcissa. He smiled when he thought he saw her wrinkles appear in her forehead. “You know, you have been given a gift, yet you refuse to fully take ownership of it. It puzzles me, especially when you claim you would do  _anything_  to protect Lucius and Draco. The chance to climb out of your pit, as you put it, is right in front of you. You need only take it, Narcissa.”  
  
A strained silence passed between them before Narcissa finally spoke. “I have told you everything I know.”  
  
“There is a difference between telling and doing,” Severus said.   
  
At that, her puffy eyes seemed to spring from their sockets. “Then by all means, tell me what you want me to do so that I may do it!”  
  
“You already know,” he said, and when he saw the look of perplexity flash across her face, Severus pointed to his temple and added, “You’ve already considered it.”  
  
“I have done my part.” Narcissa’s tone suggested that she felt as if Snape had just made an accusation about her intentions. “Do I have to spell it out for you? I will do nothing more that could jeopardize the safety of my family, and that includes going along with whatever idiotic, cocked-up scheme you may be considering.”  
  
Severus rubbed his hand over the aching Dark Mark etched in his forearm as he considered her refusal. Her sense of self-preservation was astounding considering it dwarfed any cunning she possessed. He was certain she would eventually see reason, but a bit of light nudging would be required.  
  
“What do you intend to do with Bella?” Narcissa asked, desperate to change the subject.  
  
“I thought you weren’t going to go along with my cocked-up schemes?”  
  
Narcissa shrugged, feigning a false sense of indifference. “I would still like to know what happens to my sister, is all.”  
  
“I won’t be delivering her to the Dark Lord any time soon if that’s what you asking, though I will not lie; the thought has crossed my mind just to be rid of her.”  
  
“What’s stopping you?” she said lightly.  
  
“The proper moment.” Severus sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “It is hardly anything to provoke concern—”  
  
“It deserves every bit of my concern,” she snapped. “Bellatrix knows things. You heard her, what she plans to do when the Dark Lord finds her.”  
  
“He won’t find her unless I allow it.” Severus’s voice was like ice. “And when I allow it, he won’t find any cause to keep her breathing.” He paused a moment to mull over Narcissa’s soured face, to watch her as she worked though his words.  
  
“You speak as though you have the upper hand, Severus. But you don’t.” Narcissa shook her head trying to stem her anger. “You have a poisoned chalice, and two hunted hostages; one who plans to whisper lies in the Dark Lord’s ear, and the other is of no more use to you than she is the other side.”   
  
“And which one are you?” he hissed in a voice meant for only her ears.  
  
Those five little words derailed her somehow. Narcissa shrank back into her chair, and even into herself it seemed. Severus had to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep his lips from curling upward. “It would be wise to figure it out soon,” he said, and she looked up with irritation flashing across her face. This time he smiled in a satisfied sort of way before he looked past her blonde head, to the hall leading into the sitting room. Even though he couldn’t see them or hear them, he knew his younger counterparts were doing what they had always done when faced with a problem. “I can’t guarantee my plans aren’t already being made for me.”  
  
*****  
  
In the sitting room, Ron, Harry and Hermione were doing precisely that. The wind had been taken out of their sails, and as Hermione had said when the trio had first retired in front of the fireplace, they would be dead in the water unless they figured out something soon.  
  
“I say we take the chance,” Harry said, throwing caution to the wind. “It’ll come out eventually that we’re all alive. What’s the point of hiding it?”  
  
“The element of surprise, maybe?” Hermione answered.   
  
“Having one’s soul ripped to shreds seems like a big element of surprise to me,” Ron chimed, looking disdainfully at the cup. “I hate the thing. I hate that it sits there protected because we’re too afraid to take a chance.”  
Hermione frowned. “It has nothing to do with being afraid. It’s called being cautious. It’s about striking You-Know-Who before he knows what hit him.”  
  
“So what if he knows?” Ron said, to which Harry eagerly nodded his head in agreement. “He should know. He should be afraid just like the rest of us.”  
  
“A scared wizard is a dangerous one, Ron. Add his sadistic complex to the mix, and we haven’t even scratched the surface of what he would do.” Hermione watched Ron’s face, detecting his apprehension. She decided to strike him in that moment when she knew it would force him to see reason. “Think of your family, Ron. They may be hiding, but they’re not truly out of his reach. If the Dark Lord believes for a moment that Arthur or Molly might know where you are, he’ll flay Fred, George, or Ginny in front of them and not think twice about it.”  
  
“And if we don’t do something, he’ll do it anyway,” Ron hissed. “Who’s to say Bellatrix was even telling the truth!”  
  
“I’m inclined to believe that she is.” Hermione said, absently. She was staring at the burning wood in the firebox, her mind suddenly drawn from the conversation.  
  
“Hermione?” Harry snapped his fingers in her face, rousing her from her thoughts.  
  
“Sorry,” she said scrunching her nose as though she had just caught whiff of something unpleasant. “I think there is a bad piece of wood in there. It sort of smells, don’t you think?” Ron and Harry sniffed and shrugged.  
  
“Maybe a little…”Harry trailed off, reaching for the fire poker.  
  
“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “I think she is telling the truth. Bellatrix is crazy enough to say what she knows because it scares Narcissa. It forces her into a hole. Well, all of us, really; one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenarios.”  
  
Harry sniffed, and began prodding at the rotted log to move it directly out of the flames. “At this point I think we’re damned more if we don’t do something.”  
  
“I can’t argue with you there,” Hermione said. “I’ve been thinking about what to do, actually, and I think I may have something of a plan worked out. Harry says he knows where the other Horcrux is—”  
  
“The Room of Requirement” Harry said on cue. “Sitting atop a manky, old table as a matter of fact.”  
  
“Yes, well, if we can get our hands on it, and destroy both the goblet and the diadem at the same time, You-Know-Who would be down not only one tether but two. Not to mention that would be one less thing for him to conceal. It’s much harder for him to hide giant snake than a hairpiece,” she added as an afterthought.  
  
“Question is: will Snape go for it?” Ron said unconvinced “He’s overly cautious, Hermione.”  
  
“Because we’ve only got one shot at this!” She snapped.  
  
Ron made a disgruntled face, and she almost apologized for being curt. Then he waved his hand in front of his freckled nose. “What  _is_  that?” Harry and Hermione took a deep breath in the same moment, each of them looking stricken by the foulness that assaulted the senses. There was no way it was a natural smell or the house itself. The house had a distinct smell; a mixture of age, emptiness, and dust, and the three of them had grown accustomed to it over the short time they had been holed up. Whatever  _this_  new smell was, it was different. It was tainted like something corrupted and rancid. Something eerily close to death.  
  
“Maybe something has died in the walls. This is an old house, you know,” Harry suggested.  
  
“We would’ve noticed it before now,” Ron said, and he stood from his place near the fire and started to sniff in earnest. He ambled around the room like a bloodhound on the trail. The sofa received a solid examination, and was left in a state of disarray when he pulled up the cushions in his search. The drapes hanging over the windows were next, and as he held a mass of fabric to his nose, Ron shook his head. “I can’t smell it as much over here.”  
  
“That’s because it’s all on this side of the room,” Harry told him, sounding very much like he had developed a sudden head cold. “You didn’t leave your trainers lying around by mistake, did you?”   
  
Ron gave him a sharp look. “ _Ha ha_. If it’s on that side of the room, it might be you.”  
  
Harry made to reply, but looked to Hermione instead, perhaps to see if she was finding amusement in their childlike taunts. What he found sidetracked his thoughts. She looked as if she were trying to stare through him, and for a moment Harry thought he might have said something she found offensive. When he turned to match her gaze, however, it became quite clear that her eyes were trained on the fireplace, more specifically the mantle. There, sitting atop the plain, wooden beam above the firebox, was Helga Hufflepuff’s golden goblet.  
  
The light radiated softly from below illuminated the gems inlaid in the metal, making them shine. It had an otherworldly look to it sitting there amongst a few tatty books and an old oil lamp, and slight wisps of curling green-purple vapor rolled from the chalice.  
  
“What in the hell is it doing?” Harry said.  
  
“We’ve spent the last hour discussing ways to destroy it. I would imagine it doesn’t care for the idea.” Hermione was on her feet now, inching closer and closer to where it sat. “You remember the locket and how it nearly drowned you… What it did to Ron right before he killed it…”  
  
Ron’s hand was on her arm, tugging her backward. “Then don’t touch it.”  
  
“Relax, Ron,” she said, flinching away. “I’m only going to have look.”  
  
“Maybe we should get Snape before we do anything, Hermione,” Harry added, half-sitting, half-standing behind her. “If it’s acting up, he would want to know.”  
  
“If it’s acting up, he’ll know it,” Hermione said, and at that Harry shrugged and sat back down. She pointed absently to her arm, still staring at the goblet. “The Dark Mark tends to react to it.” She put one foot on the raised hearth and stopped. Moving to stand on the hearth rather than the floor would have put the cup directly in her field of vision, but moving too close didn’t seem wise. With her hand clapped over her mouth and nose, and the other securely in the front of her jumper pocket, Hermione studied the goblet and its odd emission.  
  
The thick tendrils of vapor curled upward, evaporating as they rose; some of them were an obscene shade of green and others a deep purple. It was mesmerizing in a malevolent sort of way, the way they seemed to rise and collapse in on themselves before they dissipated into nothingness.  
  
Hermione’s hand twitched inside her pocket, but stayed put. “I bet there is something in there,” she said, businesslike.  
  
“Yeah, a slice of a lunatic.” From the sound of Ron’s voice, he hadn’t offered to move any closer. “I’m going to go fetch Sna—”  
  
“Wait.” Both feet were on the hearth by now, and her wand was drawn. “I’ve got an idea.” She flicked her wrist upward, causing the goblet to levitate a few inches above the mantle. It rocked precariously, but remained upright, steam still rippling in fervor.  
  
“Hermione…” Harry warned, scuttling out of the way as it floated near.  
  
“Harry,” she said in a quiet voice, as if she were only mildly interested in what he was saying. “I’m only having a look, and I’ll put it back when I’m through.” Hermione stepped down and away from the fireplace, guiding the goblet to a clear area in the room. The cup finally came to a halt, looking as though it was sitting atop an invisible table, and Hermione couldn’t help but smile in spite of Harry and Ron’s previous objections.  
  
She approached it carefully, feuding with the strong sense of apprehension that caused the fine hairs on her neck to stand on in.  _It’s only a look, and it will go back where it belongs, she thought. Only a quick, harmless look._  Inside, just as she had suspected, Hermione found a thick, coal-coloured substance bubbling away, emitting the putrid, shimmering wisps. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said, standing on the tips of her toes to get a proper look. “I wonder if it’s  _him._ ” At that, the tar-like substance at the bottom of the cup began to rise, changing from a thick, indecipherable glob to what looked like reaching fingers.  
  
Hermione was suddenly afraid, but the fingers were blindingly fast and had gone nearly as soon as she’d seen them. She blinked, ignoring the bevy of questions coming from the boys, and tightened her hand around her wand. The goblet lowered as she took another step toward it. The foul black liquid was swirling within the cup, and as she studied it, it appeared to gurgle in time with the thudding in her ears. The fingers appeared once more as she stepped closer, this time attached to a ghastly hand that lunged for her wrist. Hermione staggered back with a yelp, and her concentration broke. The bile spilled from the cup as it fell, splattering on the floor like water.  
  
“Is it on me?” she said, hurriedly shedding her jumper. The garment hit the floor, and Ron kicked it across the room for good measure. “Do you see anything on me?” she asked again, this time fighting off anxious tears.  
  
“I don’t see anything anywhere,” Ron said, looking all around the floor. “Whatever it was, it’s gone.”  
  
“You’re fine. Incredibly stubborn, but fine,” Harry added. He circled her carefully, checking her clothes for any of the muck. There was nothing, which was a huge stroke of luck. “Maybe next time you’ll listen when we tell you not to play with things that don’t belong to you, hmm?”  
  
Hermione laughed, an embarrassed, broken noise, and moved to brush a strand of hair from her face. “You’re one to talk, Harry Potter, but duly note—”  
  
“Stop!” Ron erupted, grabbing her arm before she could touch her face. “What’s wrong with your hand?”  
  
Their eyes found the grayish-white hue that had made its way to the tip of her forefinger. It looked as though she had left the digit sitting too long a bowl of water; raw and slightly shriveled. It was barely noticeable, but definitely there, and in the few seconds they stood staring at it, it appeared to seep down little by little. “You don’t think…” Ron trailed off, watching the colour drain from her face. “Hermione, does it hurt?”  
  
“I… I don’t know. I can’t feel it,” she whispered, flexing her fingers slowly. Terror flashed across her face when she saw a tiny drop of the substance near the edge of a nail. She wiped the finger across her denims, and looked again in time to see the black dot slither under the nail completely. Ashen-faced and glossy-eyed, she looked to Harry and said with a grave voice that was somehow not her own, “This is how it all ends.”  
  
Harry didn’t have a spare second to think before she began to crumple toward the floor. He caught her as her eyes rolled back in her skull, and when her head slammed into his chest, he was knocked to the floor. Harry landed hard on his back, which forced what breath he had out of his lungs. When he had finally regained his breath, he realised Hermione was trembling violently. He shook her roughly, trying to wake her from the awful trance.  
  
Her consciousness was diffusing before his eyes. “No, no, no!” Harry yelled, struggling to keep her from thrashing; it was no use. Hermione’s legs and arms jerked as if she were a cockroach that been overturned. It was a painful thing to see and even more painful to hear. A choked, guttural sound burst forth from her lips that changed into a thin, sharp-pitched wail as her breath dwindled. That was when Harry and Ron both screamed for Snape, though they could already hear a startled commotion coming from the kitchen.  
  
Severus appeared seconds later. Narcissa stood a prudent distance behind him, moderately confused. It took him only a moment to notice Hermione’s hand which Harry was holding down to prevent her from hurting herself. An unnaturally grey and malignant color had tainted her fair skin. A sinister fear seized him, the sort of dismaying and unmanning fear that makes it impossible to think, and even harder to breathe. Severus recognized this particular brand of poisoned magic, and he knew the outcome.   
  
He crossed the distance between Hermione and himself in two strides and fell to his knees by Harry’s side, scooping her into his lap. A warm rush of blood flowed from her mouth when her head lolled forward, soaking the leg of his trousers.  
  
“What’s wrong with her!?” Harry demanded, still kneeling on the floor. He had gone a terrible shade of white, unable to make himself move. “She never touched it! She never put a hand on it!”  
  
Severus shook his head miserably, not truly trusting himself to speak. In his lap, Hermione continued to fight the tremors, and through the rolling rounds of choked sobs and jerks blazing through her like a wildfire, she reached up grabbing the lapel of his shirt as though it would keep her afloat. She looked at him, and he saw the same eyes that had haunted his dreams only nights before, eyes filled with a paralyzing, hopeless horror that reminded him of his promise to keep her safe.  
  
The effect on him was galvanic. “Find the bag!”Severus shouted over her cries. His command was met with three dazed and equally confused pairs of eyes. “Find the fucking bag or she dies!” he repeated at once, abandoned anger in his voice now.  
  
Ron immediately hit the stairs, and from the sound of the loud scuffling, he was taking them three at a time. Harry had spun around, and darted for the kitchen. His shoulder clipped Narcissa as he swept past, knocking her hard into the wall. She tumbled sideways, catching herself before she could fall over. Severus looked up at the commotion, a terse hopefulness in his eyes that the search for the bag had been a quick success. Narcissa was only able to provide a petrified stare.   
  
“Help them,” he said, his eyes almost pleading.  
  
Narcissa hesitated, looking very much like she would like to object. She took a small step forward, but stopped when Hermione started to scream. “What’s wrong with her?”  
  
Severus had not heard her question, or if he did, he didn’t bother answering. Instead, he scooped Hermione into his arms, pulling her fully into his chest. The force of her shaking was enough to cause his teeth to rattle, but he persisted in keeping her as still as he could manage. She was burning alive right in his arms, scorched from the inside out by the same curse that would have taken Albus Dumbledore had Severus not been tasked with that responsibility. He would be damned if he watched her die.  
  
“Snape! I can’t find it!” Harry called from the kitchen. He sounded as if he were on the point of tears. Heavy footsteps rang down through the floorboards above and even more indecipherable shouting. Ron’s luck, it appeared, was no different.  
  
“Summon it, Severus.” Narcissa said harshly. She had moved considering from the closeness of her voice. “For God’s sake, summon the thing!”   
  
His stomach plummeted to the soles of his feet. It could have,  _should_ have been that simple. “I can’t,” Severus hissed. “It’s charmed to prevent it from being summoned.” He held her tight, as a one lover might do to another, guilt and desperation threatening to crush him where he sat. “I had her do it so that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands...”  _Now she’s dying in mine_ , he thought.  
  
Narcissa looked frantically around the room, whether to actually look for the bag or simply to keep her eyes off the gruesome scene happening on the floor, she was not entirely sure. Whatever her motives, however, as her eyes darted nervously from one corner of the room to the other, she spotted a small, violet coloured bag sticking from beneath the upturned cushions of the sofa. “There! There it is!”  
  
“There is a sword inside,” Severus instructed, not daring to look away from Hermione. No more than a minute had elapsed from the time the boys had disappeared in their search for the bag, but it had been enough time for her to slip further under the curse’s effects. “It’s the only thing that will give me time...”  
  
Narcissa hurried forward, pulling the bag free. The notion that a sword was inside a bag smaller than her fist was startling, but not nearly startling as the fact they had a sword to begin with. “What do you intend to do?” she asked, uneasy with the prospect of what he might say.  
  
“Strike the goblet!”Severus yelled. Hermione’s head was wildly whipping from side to side, and the blackness in her finger had begun to spread to another. The heat radiating from her was immense. That terrified him the most. “Do it, Narcissa! Do it now!”  
  
Narcissa had only managed to pull the drawstring to open when her hands refused to move. “You can’t mean…” she trailed off, though Severus never heard her. “No! There has to be another way! Severus, you can’t… I can’t!”  
  
Hermione was making muffled sounds now, as though her air supply was slowly being sucked out of her lungs. Narcissa supposed they were screams given that Hermione’s face had gone nearly as red as the blood that trickled from her nose and mouth. When the redness began to turn a deathly shade of blue, a feral quickness erupted from Severus; the sort of hysterical frenzy that would leave an observer uneasy for several hours later. The panic had finally risen above the surface no matter how much he tried to hide it.  
  
He had moved her to the floor, and she lay there, unmoving on her side like a limp tea towel. “ _Anapneo_!” Severus said desperately when he felt she had stopped breathing entirely. Harry and Ron appeared in that moment to see her cough up a fresh spray of red.   
  
“Narcissa!” Severus called. “If you are going to do it, do it now!”   
  
Narcissa felt her stomach take a roll forward, and she fought off the urge to retch.  _If you are going to do it, do it now_ , she repeated in her mind, noticing the bag in her hand feel more and more like a dead weight. She looked up to see Severus staring directly at her, Hermione writhing under his hands. Harry and Ron bobbed around them, frantic and helpless.  _If you are going to do it, do it now!_  she heard again, only it wasn’t her voice bouncing around in her mind but Snape’s.  
  
The voice was gone nearly as soon as she recognized it, but she wasted no time in acting. Moments later, when their backs were turned and Severus was murmuring some half-heard spell, Narcissa Malfoy was gone, having Disapparated without the slightest noise. The beaded bag she held lay on the ground where her feet should have been, the bejeweled hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor sticking from its slightly-puckered opening. Missing, they would soon discover, was her wand that had been hidden inside the bag for safekeeping.  
  
Severus wiped Hermione’s face with his hand. He couldn’t stand the sight of blood on her face; it made it hard to see anything else—her surviving most of all. Her eyes stared raptly upward, shedding silent tears. “The sword! Get the damn sword!”  
  
Harry and Ron reached the bag in the same moment. The blade, in their struggle to free it, pierced through the fabric, spilling everything from camping supplies and clothing to an assortment of books across the floor. The goblet that lay at their feet was lost in the chaos.  
  
A book flew across the room, hitting a side table with a bang. Others soon followed as Ron and Harry kicked their way through the mountain of things.  
  
“Don’t pick it up…” Severus said, a stern petulance in his voice. “And don’t let it touch you!”  
  
A wild assortment of objects went flying in all directions, Ron punting items with reckless abandon. Harry was batting away everything in his path with the sword. “Harry! It’s there, by the tent!”  
  
The sharp, resounding sound of metal striking metal flooded the room. The goblet was struck with enough strength to send it soaring upward, an entire side imploding from the force. Harry had dropped the sword and was doubled over, clutching both hands close to his midsection, tears welling in his green eyes. The sword was still humming from the passing shock wave when Ron picked it up and brought it down, raining blows again and again upon the cup. The final brutal drive pierced through the metal, chopping the head clean off of the engraved badger on its side.  
  
Thick, foul smelling muck bled from the hole, down the chalice and onto the floor where it sizzled, and finally disappeared; only its deathly stench and Hermione’s whimpers remaining as proof it had been there. The little emerald serving as the badger’s eye twinkled mockingly in the firelight, as if the cup knew its demise was at hand, but was determined to have the final say. Ron hit it with a wild swing, dislodging the gem. It flew out of sight never to be seen again.  
  
“Hermione?” Severus said softly, pulling her off the floor. She sagged against him, lifeless and dreadfully warm. Her hand, which he held in his, looked as though the fingers belonged to someone days dead. Despite the cursed fever blazing through her, her skin felt like ice. “Hermione… Please…” he heard himself say. His voice sounded alien to him, like he was listening with his head submerged under water.  
  
Severus checked her pulse, failing to find one on the first or second try. The third time revealed a lethargic beat, and it crept closer to slowing each second he felt the idle  _thump… thump._  He was suddenly reminded that their guest was absent, though he kept stumbling over the idea like it was nagging and small, like he had suddenly remembered that he forgotten to do something.  
  
“Stay with me,” Severus said, brushing her hair behind her ear. His hand found the space over her heart, and he tapped out a steady rhythm. Ron and Harry dropped to their knees, watching with grave faces, and when Harry reached out to touch Hermione’s damaged hand, Snape held up a single finger for him to stop. “This will pass. It  _will_  pass.”  
  
Harry eased forward, reaching for her again. “Professor…”  
  
“Wait.” Severus shook his head vehemently, looking at Hermione’s pale, blood-stained face. His hands moved from her neck to her wrists, and finally back between her breasts where he picked up the rhythm again, as if trying to reset the beat. “Not again. Don’t do this to me again…” he murmured, not caring if Ron or Harry heard. Truthfully, he was past the point of lying to himself and anyone else that he felt something for her that he ought not.  
  
“Professor Snape!” Harry said, this time more forcefully.  
  
“I don’t have the materials for the potion she needs,” Snape said, unable to look him in the eyes. “If I did… The time, there is no time.” Severus swallowed hard, continuing to tap out the rhythmic beats over her heart, reminding the organ how to function properly. “What happened? Every detail, Potter. Everything.”  
  
“She was looking at it and this… this thing reached for her from inside the cup.” Harry took a deep breath, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes. “It scared her, and when the cup fell, some of it was on her hand. We didn’t notice it at first because it was so small, and when we did, it was too late. I don’t understand,” he pressed on, his tone just shy of a shout. “She’s touched it before! We’ve all had our hands on it!”  
  
“She almost touched her face, too,” Ron added, grim. “I saw her hand, what it did to her. It happened fast, too fast. The cup started to act funny, and it smelled like… Like the thing was  
dead.”  
  
Severus checked her pulse again. There was no change. “If she touched it directly there is no help for her. The damage cannot be reversed if that’s the case, only slowed now that the Horcrux has been destroyed. If she touched it...” he began before being cut off.   
  
“It’s the same, isn’t it?” Harry was looking at him with a lost expression. “The same thing that almost killed Dumbledore?”  
  
Severus nodded faintly, unable to force the words past his lips. Instead, he held Hermione’s hand, intertwining her blackened fingers with his, waiting desperately for another idea to come to him. Severus could think of nothing but the numbing coldness that seeped from her hand to his. He gave it a slight squeeze, hoping against all hope that the affliction would pass from her to him. The blackness remained, just as the lump in his throat.  
  
It should have worked, destroying the cup as quickly as they did. That had been one of Dumbledore’s mistakes when it came to the ring belonging to the Dark Lord, and it had cost him several years of his life. More to the point, Hermione had not made the gravest error as Albus had. Sorely tempted as she was to investigate, she hadn’t touched the goblet or its contents of her own free will. Without a willing, albeit ignorant, host the curse couldn’t thrive. After Dumbledore had been cursed, Severus had extensively researched the inner workings of the curse, and the ring. The ring contained one of the Hallows, the Resurrection Stone, whereas the cup was rumored to have special powers. Both heirlooms had the potential to give power to those who owned them. It was this thirst for power, this desperate need, Severus believed, that was the key to it all.  
  
Now, as a single bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, catching on the stubble along his jaw, Severus wasn’t so sure of his theory. He wiped away the offending droplet before the boys could notice the nervous fear, before the last thread holding him together unraveled right there on his sitting room floor. He was vaguely aware of the boys’ voices calling her name, pleading for him to fix her, to fix it all, but they sounded miles away.  
  


*****

  
  
The floor of Spinner’s End vanished beneath her feet, and seconds later Narcissa felt the heels of her boots sink into the lush carpets covering her parlor floor. Her legs unhinged of their own accord and she fell to the floor a sobbing hysterical mess. "If you’re going to do it, do it now,” she said, and laughed. It was a shrill broken noise somewhere between a sob and a shriek that caused the tiny hairs on her arms to stand on end. _I surely have done it,_ Narcissa thought. She stood on shaky legs at first, and then, as the minutes ticked by, she regained her balance and most of her composure.  
  
“Mistress Malfoy!”  
  
She jumped at her House-Elf’s squeaky, nasally voice, fixing the tiny creature with a menacing glare. She hated the way they popped in out of nowhere.  
  
“You are wanted, you are!” the elf cried. “Sozi has said nothing. Not a peep even when Master Malfoy threatened to have me punished.”  
  
Narcissa believed that was supposed to make her feel better, but her stomach flipped over instead. “Where is Lucius?” she asked, biting back the bile rising in her throat.  
  
“Hogwarts, Mistress. He left not long after Madam Lestrange made a mess and you disappeared. Sozi never said a word, but hurt himself instead to keep his promise.” The elf presented his spindly hands, proudly displaying the bandages wrapped around each finger.  
  
Narcissa frowned sourly at the sight of his injuries and looked away. “Never mind that, there is something I need for you to do.”  
  
“Whatever you need,” the elf said in the same kowtowing way that grated on her nerves.  
  
“Go to Hogwarts, but don’t allow yourself to be seen,” Narcissa said. “It’s late, and Lucius should be by himself, considering the students are on holiday. Make certain he is alone, Sozi, absolutely alone. And should you find yourself caught, you are to lie about why you are there.”  
  
The House-Elf nodded, disappearing mid-step, and Narcissa made her way toward an ostentatiously plush chair at the far end of the room to wait. Her breath exploded from her as she sat, feeling for the first time in the last few days like she was in control. It was an exquisite feeling, to not only be holding all of the right cards, but to know the opponent’s as well. With that thought in mind she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the inside wing of the chair and sat in silence.  
  
“He was taking his supper in the Headmaster’s office,” Sozi said several moments later, appearing out of thin air. “He is all alone, Mistress.”  
  
“Very well.” Narcissa’s voice carried a certain solemnity; she didn’t even bother opening her eyes to look at him when he spoke. She took a deep breath after a few strained seconds and stood from her chair. She stalled long enough to flatten her robes and nervousness, and then walked to the fireplace, grabbing an ornate wooden box from the mantle that contained Floo Powder. “Do not answer the door for anyone,” she told the elf, stepping into the firebox. “No matter who comes to call, understand?”  
  
A blinding flare of green light and its crackling roar blocked Sozi’s reply, to which Narcissa was grateful; she was in no mood to be mollified out of obligation, after all. _He is dreadfully efficient—even for a House-Elf—at plastering on the false flattery by the trowel full_ , she thought as she felt a violent, twisting jerk sideways. Narcissa closed her eyes, enjoying the special, pungent staleness of the soot-ridden ride leading her straight to her salvation.   
  
At Hogwarts, the Headmaster’s fireplace sputtered, sending a thick fog of ash trailing upward. Lucius looked up from his dinner, his mouth agape in mid-bite. The mouthful of food adorning his dinner fork tumbled down the front of his shirt when Narcissa stepped through with a haggard air about her.   
  
“Narcissa?” He stood slowly, his voice low and uneasy. The fork fell to his desk with a dull clang, unnoticed.  
  
Narcissa tried a smile, but she was sure it looked all wrong on her face. “Of course it is. Won’t you be a gentleman and bring me some tea?” Her words felt slow and indistinct as they left her, tainted with dread. She forced herself to stand a bit straighter, digging her nails into her palms to keep the hopeless tears from falling freely. She would not give in to the tightness constricting her chest.   
  
“Where have you been?” Lucius demanded, still watching her with dreadful fascination. “And what’s wrong with your face!?”  
  
“I was temporarily indisposed,” Narcissa said, refusing to be insecure about her bruises. She had earned them, she now realised.  
  
“Temporarily?” he scoffed. “You have been gone for days! Days, Narcissa! Does it occur to you how this looks, the kind of image it projects on me?!” He turned away from her, throwing his hands into the air. “First your sister, and now you! It’s idiocy, I tell you!”  
  
Narcissa promptly crossed the distance between them and slapped Lucius across the face. “You listen to me, Lucius Malfoy,” she seethed. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to come here to speak with you! You will watch your tone, or I will leave and take what I know with me.”  
  
Lucius, still reeling from Narcissa’s rude awakening, was staring at her with dumbfounded eyes. It didn’t hurt physically, that much she knew. She hadn’t hit him hard enough to leave his flesh stinging, only enough to wake him up. “Now, you might want to sit down for this” she said, edging around him to the seat behind his desk. He turned just in time to see her settle herself back in the Headmaster’s chair.  
  
“Sit down for what?” he asked, watching her take a long draw from the cup of tea next to his now-cold dinner. Narcissa’s face remained impassive and she gestured to one of the less comfortable chairs sitting before the desk. She noticed her husband’s face appeared to shift from shock to agitation and finally dread in the span of seconds.  _And rightfully so,_  she thought when he finally sagged into the chair nearest the fireplace.  _The storm is approaching, hard and fast. Best move to higher ground, my love, lest it wash us into the gutter._  
  
“You have no inkling of where Bella is,” she said after a moment, knowing full-well that he did not.  
  
“No.”  
  
Narcissa remarked with intense interest that he nearly choked on the word. It felt slightly wrong to allow Lucius to stew over the fact that he was thoroughly in the dark about her whereabouts, but part of her—and a surprisingly large part at that— felt content in watching him squirm.  
  
“You needn’t worry…” she said, her voice too confident for her own liking. Narcissa folded her arms and leaned against the desk, inclining her head as if intent on divulging him some clandestine secret that wasn’t hers to share. She smiled again, and this time it felt exactly right. “…because, as it happens, I know exactly where she is.”  
  
Lucius’s eyes bulged from his head, and he spluttered to get the obvious question past his lips. Narcissa was faster. She reached out taking him by the hand, as preparing to pull him from a deep chasm, and said, “And if fate is kind, Lucius… If fate is on our side as it has always been, I can give you Harry Potter in the flesh and very much alive.”  
  


* * *

Author’s Notes:  
  
I would like to extend a very special thank you to everyone who has followed this story from the first word until now. We are in the home stretch, and I must say it’s a bittersweet thing. This story will see its end, but it may take me a while to get there considering the depth and range of the forthcoming chapters. Hang on, dear readers, is all I ask. As always, I greatly appreciate and welcome every review.  
  
Also, on more of a self-pimping (excuse me while I flail about with excitement) note, two of my stories—Resonare Mortis and The Tie that Binds—have been nominated for the Best Drama-Angst fan fiction in the SS/HG category for the fall/winter round of the HPfanficfanpoll Awards on LiveJournal. There are other categories too, with several offerings from an assortment of talented people. If you have not read the stories, I invite you to pull up a chair and dive right in. And if they happen to strike a chord, I also encourage you to head over to their LiveJournal page and cast a vote when the voting period 


	31. Burning Bridges

  
**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

Chapter 30

Burning Bridges 

_I can give you Harry Potter in the flesh and very much alive_ —the simple phrase hung in the air between them, and Lucius was sure he could feel the words vibrating strangely toward him. It couldn't be possible. Anger laced with a slight sense of fear flared up in him as he saw a sweeping grin pay a visit to his wife's bruised face. He could possibly have believed her about Bellatrix, but never about Harry Potter being alive. Quite frankly, after that comment, he wasn't sure he could believe her at all. He had watched the boy die as he fell at the Dark Lord's feet, after all. It was absolutely impossible.

He jerked his hand from Narcissa's, looking at her with a mixture of dismay and anger. "Have you gone mad?"

"I am perfectly sane, Lucius," she said, the grin still curling her lips. "And I can see the skepticism in your eyes."

Lucius stood bolt upright, maneuvering around the desk so as to pull her from the chair. The smile on her lips was gone now as he took her face in his hands, staring directly into her eyes. He was searching for something, for a hint of the truth possibly, but more likely for deceit. Something was off, and he couldn't quite place his finger on it. "Are you ill?"

"I am fine," she answered. Her voice gave hint to her waning patience.

Lucius's hands dropped from the sides of her face, coming to rest on her shoulders. He looked at her for a long moment; still unsure of what exactly it was that he was looking for. His mind wandered briefly to the Dark Lord, to the notion that he had somehow managed to use Narcissa against him. How else could she have known about Bellatrix's disappearance? Why would she say anything about Harry Potter? Narcissa had never given the slightest bit of concern for the boy and, on more than one occasion, had questioned the Dark Lord's reasoning for placing her husband and only son at the front lines. _Something is terribly off,_ Lucius thought. He turned her around by her shoulders and ushered her toward the door. Narcissa was content to follow him until he said: "You look tired. Perhaps a trip to the infirmary is in order. For good measure, of course."

"I am fine, Lucius," she told him again, but Lucius had managed to get her nearly to the door and looked to have no intention of stopping. Narcissa shrugged from under his hold and spun around, bringing them just inches apart. "I don't need the matron! I need you to listen to me!"

"Listen to you?" He erupted with a suddenly sharp viciousness. His eyes shone spitefully, and the longer she watched him, Narcissa could see the redness of a flush creeping up his neck. "You are talking madness, Narcissa! Harry Potter is dead, and unless you've developed great skill to bring him from beyond the Veil, there is no way you can deliver on your promise. And how do you even know about Bellatrix? She has been missing for days!" Before Narcissa could answer, Lucius took her roughly by the arm and forced her against the wall. "This is not a game! Do you understand that this will mean our heads!?"

"You…" she began, and for a moment she could not find her words. He had never handled her so brutally and it had taken her entirely off her guard. Out of instinct and before she could help herself, Narcissa brought her previously concealed wand to the base of his throat, feeling him tense as she did so. " _You daft, stubborn man_ ," she said, trembling all over as the words escaped through her clenched teeth. "If you ever put your hands on me in such a manner again, if you _ever_ show me that level of disrespect, Lucius, there will be hell to pay!"

Lucius took a step back, the flush on his face now gone. "Forgive me, Narcissa. I… I—"

"I am your wife, your equal!" Narcissa spat. Bright red sparks exploded from the tip of her wand and bounced off the stone floor. One of the bolts ricocheted off the floor and spiraled past Lucius's blond head. He stumbled over his own feet in his retreat and fell on the seat of his pants, staring up at her in horror. After a moment, he put his hands over his face, unable to look at her any longer.

"Would you get up off the floor before you catch cold," Narcissa said finally, her voice only marginally softer. "Besides, there is more you need to know, and I would prefer to tell you somewhere comfortable."

"This is ridiculous," Lucius said, his tone somewhere between half-laughing and half-trembling. He was still staring at her feet, marveling at the mirthless quality of his own voice. He was finally cracking under the insane pressure. _What a perfect time_ , he thought. _And with the Dark Lord breathing down my neck, no less._ He looked up to see her hand slender hand extended toward him, but he couldn't make himself reach out and grasp it.

"Lucius, please. Time is not on our side."

This time she sounded much more like the collected Narcissa he knew. Still, he hesitated for a moment, ashamed at himself for behaving like a fool, for forgetting that they were very much alike when it came to doing what was necessary to ensure their survival. He couldn't possibly fault her for that—even if he hadn't the slightest clue what she was talking about, or if he could believe her for that matter. He took her hand, and as she hefted him to his feet, Lucius found himself wondering with unwillingness if she could actually be telling him the awful truth.

Narcissa released him when he was on his feet, and made her way to the set of chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. When she sat down, Lucius could see for the first time since her arrival coming that his wife was weary in a way he had never seen before. "Tell me where you've been," he said, settling himself next to her. "Help me understand what is going, Narcissa. Right now, I don't know what to believe."

"I've been with Bellatrix for the past several days." Narcissa smiled a little wistfully. "The day you came home looking for her, you found her, Lucius. You don't remember, because when you tried to apprehend her, she was able to gain the upper hand... with Draco as well."

"If that happened, Narcissa, I believe I would remember it."

"You would, if I had not persuaded Bellatrix to wipe your memories," Narcissa said.

Lucius shot his wife an incredulous look. "And why on earth would you do that?"

"To protect you, obviously – the both of you. I knew what would happen if the Dark Lord went poking around in your mind and saw that you let Bellatrix escape."

Lucius's eyes narrowed as the realization of what had happened at Malfoy Manor swept over him. And how _did_ your dear sister manage to escape, Narcissa? Draco and I may have been unconscious as you say, but that still left one person in the room." Narcissa averted her eyes to escape her husband's furious gaze. "What in the hell were you thinking?"

"I was trying to—"

"You helped her escape! My God, what have you done? What could you have possibly hoped to gain by doing this?"

"She is my sister, Lucius," Narcissa said with tears welling in her eyes. "I had hoped that my family, _all_ of my family, could make it out of this ordeal alive."

"The Dark Lord will kill you if, or should I say when he finds out." Lucius fisted his hands in his hair, a look of utter turmoil on his face. He looked like a man stricken; a man who had just been told the terrible news that he had developed some sort of irrevocable illness that was beyond a Healer's capacity. "I can't save you from this... I don't know how to save you…" he trailed off, staring absently into the air in front of him.

Narcissa made to reach for him, but he stood up and went to the heavy desk a few steps from where she sat. She watched as he paced back and forth, deep in his own thoughts, and when she called his name, he wouldn't even look her way. Instead, Lucius had placed both hands on the desk for support with his head hung.

"Listen to me—"

"I have listened to you, and I have heard enough!" His words were cut off by the crashing sound of everything on his desk being swept into the floor. "I cannot fix this, Narcissa! I cannot undo the damage you've done!"

"Do you know the reason I wiped your memory of the encounter?"

"To save me, so you say," he answered. His voice was harsh and frigid. "What fucking good it has done!"

"You are alive now because of the choice I made!" Narcissa shrieked. "Had you taken Bellatrix to the Dark Lord he would have slain you both! He would have taken everything I have left, because he failed to kill Harry Potter when the time presented itself. He would have laid blame to Bellatrix, to you… to _Draco_ , Lucius. I could not sit idly by and watch you walk into death's arms, with my sister and my only child at your side!"

Lucius shook his head. "You couldn't have possibly known that. How do you not see that by keeping this from him it will be worse, so much worse?"

"I know where they are, Bellatrix and the boy. I know where Snape is," Narcissa said, and when a look of disbelief flashed across his face she added, "Oh yes, Severus Snape lives, as does the Blood Traitor and the filth that has the audacity to call herself a witch. They all live."

"This is not possible… Dolohov and Bellatrix were supposed to—"

"Antonin is dead, surely you have figured that out by now," Narcissa said firmly. "And no one else will die because of this, except the proper sort, of course."

"What do you intend to do?" Lucius asked.

Narcissa turned abruptly and walked toward the large window overlooking the castle lawn. Her eyes looked past the snow falling steadily, and as she surveyed the Forbidden Forest that stood at the edge of the grounds, Lucius could not help but notice how she seemed to relish in the power those six seemingly insignificant words held.

"I told you, I can give you Bella and the boy." Narcissa ran her hand down the pane of glass, watching as the thin, watery film came off on her fingers. It was hard for her not to envision swiping away everything and everyone that had threatened her and those she loved, feeling their cold blood on her hands instead of condensation. It had been a long time in coming, and she was ready for it. "In the meantime, it is important for you to use discretion. This conversation never happened."

"I won't be able to keep this from him forever," Lucius said with a thin voice. "Eventually it will come to light."

"Luckily for us all, I'm not asking for that long." Narcissa turned and smiled at her husband. She crossed the distance between them in a few strides, bringing the tip of her wand to his temple. "Just a precaution, Lucius," she assured when he flinched. "They won't be out of reach."

At that, Narcissa began to siphon the entire encounter from her husband's memory, carefully pulling the incriminating wispy strands from his temple. Lucius retrieved the teacup on the floor—the only receptacle close at hand – and dumped the remaining tea onto the stone. As Narcissa placed the memory inside for safekeeping, the two of them were completely unaware that they had been watched from the shadows.

*****

"Standing guard at her bedside isn't doing either of you any good," Snape observed, his voice quiet and calm. The shadowed figure he spoke to jumped from surprise, and then turned in his chair. The light from the hallway illuminated Harry's face long enough for Severus to notice the haggardness about him. It was to be expected, considering that Harry refused to sleep until Hermione regained consciousness. It was simply the ridiculous nature of a Gryffindor, Severus thought as his gaze roved over their lifeless companion lying in the middle of the bed.

Hermione lay on her back, her hair in a wild halo around her head. She was perfectly still, except for the slow, arrhythmic rise and fall of her chest. If one didn't know otherwise, it would have been easy to assume she was sleeping. The hand that held the curse rested on the mattress, a single finger darkened as though a malevolent shadow had fallen over it. She was improving, but it was still unknown when she would wake.

"You need to sleep, Potter," Snape insisted. "You'll be no good to her when she wakes if you don't tend to yourself."

"I'm fine. Besides, I couldn't sleep if I tried." Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and shook his head. "Even if I could, I know what waits. It was hard enough watching her then, I don't want to see it in my sleep."

Severus sighed. "As I told Weasley, a full dose of Dreamless Sleep—"

"I don't want any Dreamless Sleep!" Harry snapped. "I _want_ her to wake up."

"Despite what your immense sense of entitlement may lead you to believe, you are not the only one." The words tore through the strained silence, and Harry recoiled as though Severus had struck him across the face.

"And I'm supposed to believe you're talking about yourself, then?" Harry stood, his legs shaking like stilts from his temper. "We told you this would happen, and look what your _immense_ sense of stupidity did to her! You could have killed her!"

Severus froze, feeling an entirely new brand of loathing awaken which he found hard to contain. His mind, muddied by anger and a horrible sense of responsibility, churned until he was able to see past the red clouding his vision to the green eyes staring back at him with equal contempt. He didn't know which he hated more; the boy for his insolence, or the fact that he spoke the truth.

"You don't even deny it, do you?" Harry had taken an abrupt step forward, his hands balled into fists. "All of this could have been—"

"What? Avoided?" Severus said. "No need to pussyfoot around it, Potter. Say it— cast your blame as you've done every time before when some great problem has arisen in your life!"

Harry's face twisted in fury. "I never asked for your help, but accepted it all the same when you offered. Do you know why? It was because Hermione trusted you! She trusted you to do the right thing. She practically begged you to let us destroy it, to trust us that it needed to be done, and you refused her."

_You refused her_. He hated those three little words. He hated how each one felt like the blade of a blunt axe wedged in his chest. "What's done is done," Severus said grudgingly. "If I could undo what's happened to her—"

"I'm not asking you to do that," Harry said curtly. "I want you to take responsibility for this."

"You think I haven't already?" Severus demanded, and the incredulous face Harry wore gave the impression that the notion was altogether unfathomable to him. "Not a minute passes that I don't wish I had done something differently. Not a single fucking one!"

He turned and made his way over to where Hermione lay, leaving Harry standing alone in the center of the room. "I made a promise. I told her that I would keep her safe and I failed," Severus said, placing the back of his hand upon her cheek. The fever had receded but only marginally, and when his fingers moved to her neck, the slow thumping of her pulse shot through him like an electric shock. He gave Harry a sharp look and said, "Does that satisfy you?

"It will if she wakes up."

" _When_ ," Severus corrected in a stern voice. "When she wakes, and she will. I have no doubt."

Harry came to stand at Snape's side, looking down at his friend. Several awkward seconds passed before he settled himself down on the bed, taking Hermione's damaged hand in his own. He sighed, miserable and listless, as though unsure of what to say next and shook his head. "She still feels too hot. How long until this passes?"

"I can't answer that," Severus answered sullenly. "I would expect soon considering the damage to her finger is no longer spreading."

"But it's still there," Harry observed. He turned Hermione's hand over in his, running his thumb across the darkened flesh. "You said destroying the goblet would prevent this. It worked for Dumbledore, it should have worked for her. "

"Miss Granger is a great many things, but she can't be compared to Albus. She's not only weaker in skill, but the circumstances are different surrounding her case," Severus said.

Harry rubbed the space between his eyes with both hands. "I'm not following. I thought this was the same thing. You said it was."

"It is the same thing, but the difference is in how it occurred. Albus fell victim to the curse when he placed the ring on his finger, the same ring containing one of the Hallows. He sought the power it held and thus became vulnerable to the magic within it. Hermione did not touch the goblet with the intent of gaining something from it."

Harry shook his head. "No, she just wanted to see what was inside. She didn't even touch it when it fell. Whatever was in it splashed onto her hand. We didn't even know it was there until it was too late."

"A failsafe the Dark Lord did not anticipate in his ingenious design," Severus said absently. He reached down to brush a stand of Hermione's unruly hair behind her ear and continued. "It is the hunger, the need to gain power that makes the curse fatal. Her intentions, though irresponsible, were innocent."

"What about the potions you gave Dumbledore?" Harry said without hesitation. "Couldn't you—"

"It would do nothing for her. The curse doesn't need to be contained. It isn't spreading," Severus said.

"It isn't going away either, and now that Voldemort knows what we've done, she's even more vulnerable. We all are."

Severus could sense the nervous fear rising up in Harry again, and he could hardly blame him. That same anxious worry would often rear its ugly head in him as well. Still, there was little that could be done with Hermione. They could only bide their time until she recovered, and Severus was quite certain they would remain safe for the time being. "The Dark Lord could appear just beyond the stoop and he would never find what he was searching for. We are protected here."

Harry fought off a yawn, and stood. "We're holding a Death Eater right under our noses, not to mention her sister has escaped."

"You needn't worry about Narcissa," Severus said at once. "She won't act against us until she knows Bellatrix is neutralized. She knows I would rather give her sister over and watch them both burn." Severus was unsure how convincing he was, but Harry seemed to be placated for the time being. "At any rate, it is nothing to concern yourself with."

Severus waited for the next round of worried questioning, but found himself surprised when Harry silently made his way toward the empty chair instead. _He could have been a Hufflepuff for all of his loyalty_ , Snape thought, watching as the young wizard continued to fight against his exhaustion.

"Why do you insist on being so incredibly pigheaded?" Severus asked. "Go to bed."

Harry gave a half-hearted grin, but didn't sit. "It is my nature, I've been told. Besides, someone should be here with her. He hesitated, looking stupidly at his own socked-feet, then continued. "She would do the same for any of us."

"I think I can manage it well enough." Severus waved his wand, and the bedroom door swung open. "The Dreamless Sleep is in the lavatory cupboard," he continued as he seized Harry by the sleeve of his shirt and ushered him out into the hallway. "Take it or leave it, but I don't want to see you step foot in this room until you've slept."

Harry paused for a moment, then turned to sulk down the darkened corridor and into the room was sharing with Ron. The door shut behind the young wizard with a quiet snap and all was still—all except the sound of shallow breathing coming from the room at his back.

Severus turned, hearing the aged boards of the floor creak under his weight, and closed the door to his room. The clock hanging on the far end of the space read just shy of three in the morning. _Nine hours_ , he thought as he threw himself into the empty chair by Hermione's sickbed. _She's been convalesced nine hours, and still there is no change._

There, as he sat alone in the dark, his fingers drumming silently, restlessly upon the armrests of the chair, Severus felt the first paralyzing stirrings of helplessness. He had managed to keep his emotions in check from the moment she had been cursed, but as the seconds ticked on, and as she lay still and silent, the guilt and the powerlessness was beginning to bear down on him with more and more weight.

The world was spinning out of control right in front of him, and there was nothing Severus could do but wait to see if it would correct itself. Narcissa's disappearance was still there, hiding in the back of his mind. Bellatrix was there, taunting him with all of the things he should have done differently. When she wasn't perversely laughing her way to the forefront, the damaged Horcrux was there, reminding him that it was all far from over and that time was running out. The boys were there with their 'I-told-you-sos', casting their blame, and the Dark Lord was there, too, with his plans to fully overthrow the Ministry of Magic—an act that would finally give a face to the reign of terror being carried out in his name and swiftly cripple any opposition remaining. Still, with all of those thoughts swirling around like some wildly violent tempest in his mind, Severus could focus only on one question: had he done enough save her?

Severus felt his stomach take an unpleasant roll forward, and he found he couldn't sit idly in the chair any longer. He crossed the space between the chair and the bed, coming to stand at Hermione's side, feeling regrettably small and lost. This isn't right. _This isn't how this is supposed to be_ , he thought. "The good and just should never fall by the wayside. This isn't right!"

He had not intended to say those words aloud, but found them coming out of his mouth before he could pull them back in. He watched her face, hoping to detect any sort of response. There was nothing, but an idea suddenly came to him.

He remembered standing in the doorway hours before, listening as Harry and Ron took turns simply talking to her. They would have one-sided conversations that ranged anywhere from Quidditch and memories of their earlier and far less perilous days at Hogwarts to what they intended to do once the Dark Lord was defeated. They would ask her questions and dutifully wait for a response that never came. It had grown too much for him to witness, and Severus had retreated into the kitchen to escape their failed attempts but more so Hermione's lack of reply. When all was said and done, their experiment had ended with a tearful Ron seeking him out for Dreamless Sleep and an angry, forlorn Harry that refused to give up no matter the cost to his mental health.

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the shaft of light falling across his socks, and said to Hermione, "Did you know the word listen and the word silent are made up of the same letters?" He paused, turning to look at her face. He wanted to hear her voice, but was happy to settle for a perplexed expression if that was all he could have. He was given neither.

"I'm sure you are wondering why I would lead with something as incredibly mundane as an anagram, but it is for my piece of mind. Those two words are often used in tandem, and it is for that reason alone I'm going to accept your silence, Hermione. I'm going to take your silence because I believe you are one of the very few people who understand listening has far more to do with not talking."

She offered no response, but Severus didn't stop. He wasn't normally one for talking, because the successfulness of a conversation was often in the hands of the listener. This felt different, however, as though the outcome was solely in his hands. "I have nothing worthwhile to offer in terms of Quidditch, nor do I possess any remotely interesting story of my tenure at Hogwarts, but what I can tell you is that Potter and Weasly cannot be expected to travel down this road unless you are alongside them." He paused for a moment, and then said with great difficulty, "It isn't just them, either, Hermione. If there is any hope for me seeing this through to its end, it lies with you and you alone."

Severus took her hand, and folded her hot, limp fingers into his, wondering with absolute misery if she had heard anything he had said.

*****

Snape's voice had reached her. As he spoke, the sound of it rather than the words or meaning drifted through her mind like a wisp of cloud, and no matter how hard Hermione fought to reach out and grasp it, it would disappear just as quickly as it came. The only things she could fully sense were the cold and the darkness. It was an incredible coldness that threatened to smother her as she lay powerless to stop it. It was consuming, and she was starting to wonder if it would freeze her alive from the inside out. Instincts, the sort buried deep down, told her to move, to react in defense any way she could, but the blanket of unconsciousness draped over her was too heavy to lift.

Instead, Hermione felt herself slipping further and further down into the freezing pit. _I need to go up. Up, not down!_ But down and down she went, descending, spiraling further into the darkness. Hermione knew that something dreadful waited down in the oppressive chill, something that haunted her. There was something else too, a soft light she could hardly detect in the shadows. She had seen it several times before, but it was always only a quick glance she managed to steal before it disappeared. Now, however, she could see it. She could almost feel the heat radiating from it, as if it was her own personal sun.

The urge to follow it grew aggressively, and she found herself hurrying toward it. She persisted, but never managed to make the slightest gain—with each stride, the light would recede deeper into the abyss, taking her with it as it went. _Don't leave me here!_ she called, but the light continued to vanish, leaving her alone to choke on the bitter loneliness that was everywhere. She closed her eyes and thought of herself climbing out with her bare hands. She fought past the cold and the bleakness, focusing instead on finding any way that would lead her to freedom. _Up. I need to go up before it leaves me down here!_

That was when Hermione heard the voice again. She could feel it in the darkness and she began to move again, this time with renewed strength. Guided by the voice, she felt her way through the fog, and as she went, she became increasingly aware of the heightened difficulty with which she moved. It started with the weird heaviness that she couldn't shake, and then shifted as she continued into a gnawing ache that branched out in every direction. When the ache turned into a sizzling pain she could hardly stand, she had no choice but to stop, the voice just beyond her reach.

Hermione could feel her teeth chattering when she forced the plea past her lips, the desperate request to wait, which the voice ignored. Slowly, with a terrible sense of fear, she sank to her knees and listened as it faded away. She made a soft sound just shy of a whimper and gave herself over to her nightmare, saying one last time as she curled up, "Don't leave me alone…"

"Shhhh," the voice answered gently, fleetingly. Hermione felt it caress the side of her face like a steady hand, and she started to cry. "You're not alone."

Her eyes fluttered in response to the burning tears, and she not only saw light when she opened them fully, but a face she recognized at once.

"Severus?"

It hurt to speak. It hurt to move. It hurt to even think. Hermione felt as if she had slept for ages, and the fact that she had no idea where she was or how long she had been there only made matters worse. Her stomach was sour and empty, and she could feel a spasm of pain twist through her head as she tried to sit up.

Hermione looked reluctantly around the room, which was bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp burning in the adjoining lavatory. _I must be in his bed, because this is his room_. The next thing she noticed was the lit streetlight beyond the window, and though the flimsy curtain blocked most of her view, she could tell snow was falling steadily.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice dreadfully hoarse.

"A little past three in the morning," Severus said. "You've been nearly comatose going on nine hours. How do you feel?"

Hermione knew what she felt like, but didn't think she could properly articulate it. It was like she had been trapped inside herself as crazy as that sounded, like she had been locked away somewhere dark and damning never to see light again. At the thought of it, she felt the panic rise up and clasp its cold hands around her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Hermione pushed herself up the pillow, feeling flares of pain ripple outward in every direction.

"Try not to move just yet," Severus said. Hermione felt the bed give under his weight as he sat, and suddenly his face came into focus right above her head. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch him, to prove that she wasn't trapped in the horrible dream she had endured, but he pulled a blanket around her snuggly, keeping her in place. "You are shivering."

"It's cold," she rasped. "…I'm cold."

"That's the fever doing its work." Severus placed his hand on her cheek again, looking at her intently. "I would have given you something for it, but I didn't want to chance you choking on it while you were unconscious. Do you think you could swallow it now?"

Hermione winced. "Please."

Severus reached for a small phial on the bedside table, and popped the cork from its mouth. "This isn't going to be pleasant on an empty stomach," he cautioned, holding it out. "You have to keep most of the potion down in order for it to work."

Her cursed hand reached for the phial, and when she caught sight of the darkened skin, she stilled. The grayness had seeped nearly up to the knuckle of her index finger, but the nail itself looked as though she had repeatedly slammed it in a heavy door, blue and black. Hermione realised quickly that it wasn't simply bruising.

"It has improved," Severus insisted, seeing the stricken look on her face. "The curse had spread to another finger."

Hermione managed an awkward nod, still looking at the damage done. She could not imagine it looking worse, if truth be told. It looked to her like her finger belonged to a corpse. The tinge would most likely never go away, a constant reminder of the chaos and the horror that couldn't be washed away. She flexed her hand, slowly and meticulously moving each joint. "I can't feel it."

"Your entire hand?" There was an edge of alarm in Severus's voice. He placed the empty phial back on the bedside table and took her hand in his, carefully touching each of her fingers, asking with each pass if she had feeling.

"Only the one finger."

"Consider yourself lucky it isn't worse." Severus retrieved the phial of potion once more, and this time Hermione took it. The potion drained down her throat like acid, stinging and burning, but stayed down despite the round of nausea she felt.

Severus appeared to be content that she would be fine for the time being, and went back to his chair, pulling it closer to her bedside. "You need to rest."

The heavy silence that followed soon after was a hundred times worse to Hermione than anything in her dreams. She wanted to ask after Ron and Harry—who were doubtless sleeping given the hour— and what had happened before she found herself shivering from a cursed fever in his bed, but the words all failed, smothered by the image of the wizard sitting at her bedside. Severus looked tired with dark lines etched under his eyes. He was fighting sleep as much as he looked to be fighting with himself. That wouldn't do.

Hermione sat up, feeling a dull throb in her head intensify. "I don't remember much of what happened, except feeling like someone was holding my head under iced water." When she thought about it, she realised the fever still lingered on stubbornly.

Severus took a slow, deep breath, his eyes watching her face as he spoke. "The goblet carried a curse, a defense mechanism, if you will. It was apparently threatened, and it reacted." Severus frowned. "At one point you stopped breathing entirely…I thought you were lost to us all."

The realization of how close she had come to greeting death chilled her. "And the Horcrux?" she asked, looking down at her hands. "Was it destroyed?"

"I had no choice," Severus said. "And in the chaos, Narcissa fled."

"The Dark Lord knows we're alive and we're still hunting him?"

"None of that matters, do you understand me?" he said. "None of that is important now."

Hermione shook her head, knowing with a cold certainty that every bit of it mattered. "Of course it does… I've doomed us all. This... all of this is my fault." A single tear tracked a salty path down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

That surprised him, given the expression on his face. "You have no reason to be sorry," Severus told her, vexed. "You have done nothing that merits an apology. I should have listened to you from the beginning. Had I listened, this—"

"No one blames you, Severus," Hermione interrupted. "Besides, there's enough sadness in the world without getting involved in figuring out who's responsible for it."

"If I had known—"

"Most people don't believe something will happen until it does." Her head was still swimming, and she could feel her eyelids grow heavy again. The potion must have been working, making her lashes feel like they were made of stone. Hermione reached out, taking Severus's hand in hers, and squeezed. She refused to sink back under.

He squeezed back, looking wounded. "It was stupid and irresponsible—"

"It's human nature," Hermione insisted, allowing a faint smile to grace her lips. "If anyone is at fault it's me. I should have never tried look at it. The cup would have killed me, had you not done what you did. "

Severus looked as if he was about to smile, but his face disappeared behind a curtain of dark hair before Hermione could see him properly. It wasn't hard to guess something was troubling him, though he tried to pay it very little mind. "I did very little, if anything at all."

"You've done more than I could have ever asked from you."

"And I would do it all again," Severus admitted softly, almost as if he had said something that should have stayed private. "I made you a promise, remember?"

Hermione heard his voice fade into silence, and the spasm she felt shuddering through her chest was a different sort of pain. This was the stomach-churning agony she felt every time she looked at him and wondered if he even had even the faintest of feelings for her. There was a sense of responsibility there, which she couldn't deny, but was there truly more than that?

Suddenly a thought occurred to Hermione, one that was both horrible and frightening. There was a very real chance she would never know the answer to that question, and what little likelihood there was lessened every day they marched dutifully closer to the end of their fight. It would all be lost with a well placed curse, or worse. The Dark Lord had a great many weapons at his disposal, each of them crueler than the next. She had to know. Good or bad, she had to know.

"Say what's on your mind," Severus told her suddenly. "It's written all over your face, you're holding something back."

Hermione looked at him quickly and spoke before she lost her nerve. "I can't do this anymore." Even to her, her voice sounded like it should have belonged to someone else, but still she continued. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"We are nearly there," Severus said hopefully. "Two Horcruxes remain. It will only be a matter of time."

"I wasn't talking about the Horcruxes, or Voldemort, or any of this." Hermione looked away, fighting the flow of words that threatened to burst from her and make a mess of things. When she finally turned back an odd expression had fallen over his face, somewhere between dread and nervousness. "Are you going to actually make me say it aloud?"

"Hermione—"

"Don't," she said impatiently. "Just don't speak, please. If I don't say what I mean to say, I might never find it in me to bring it up again…" _Or the opportunity_. She swung her legs off the bed slowly, ignoring the brief feeling of faintness that washed over her. Severus drew back into his chair in what Hermione hoped was an attempt to give her room to stand and not an escape.

"You shouldn't stand," Severus advised, coming to his own feet should she need support.

"There is a lot I shouldn't do," she answered as the tips of her toes touched the floor. Hermione eased herself up off the bed, her legs feeling as though they were made of lead. _Don't fall, don't fall_. "There is a lot I shouldn't feel, and no matter how much I try to talk myself out of it, it never works."

"This is your fatigue talking."

"No it isn't. And I know you think it's all nonsense." She took an awkward step toward him, and he caught her by the wrist when she swayed. "I don't want to be your friend anymore…or whatever this is."

"Do you understand what you are asking me to do?" Severus's voice sounded far off, faint. Hermione was sure she saw something akin to hurt flash across his face. It was gone nearly as soon as she had seen it.

"I'm asking you to be honest with me."

"No, you are asking me to place you in even more danger than you are already in. What do you think would happen should the Dark Lord discover…" Severus trailed off, as though he couldn't finish the thought. "Do you know what kind of power that could give him should you and I become involved?"

Her heart sank. "And you think the danger I'm in won't worsen regardless of that?"Hermione stood a bit straighter, and the pain that lanced through her head was almost blinding. "You think I won't have any more brushes with death before this is all over?"

"I won't have them on my account…" He hesitated, and she thought he may have lost his nerve. "I told you that I would keep you safe. Don't put me in a position where I can't follow through with it."

That was unexpected, and somehow she felt a stab of anger go through her chest. "Look at me," Hermione ordered, unsmiling, and he did. "Look at me and tell me that there isn't enough for You Know Who to use against us already."

Severus shook his head, and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Hermione—"

"Answer me!" The tears were falling freely now, and she felt as though the room was closing in on itself. She was only vaguely aware of the fabric of his shirt brushing against her cheek as he pulled her toward him. Severus didn't answer right away, but she could sense that he was trying to determine if he should say anything at all. That wasn't good enough for her, and she said, "Tell me I'm wrong!"

"You know I can't tell you you're wrong," he said, carefully selecting each word. "Surely you can see that?"

Hermione twisted out of his grasp, her face colorless. Her body screamed at her to lie back down, but she refused. "Then why can't you say it? Why can't you tell me how you feel—and spare me the nonsense about keeping me safe, because you and I both know that is ridiculous." At that, his eyes found hers, and for the first time since their coming together, Hermione saw something entirely foreign in his face, reckless courage perhaps. "I know this is hard for you, admitting it, letting go even—"

Severus's lips coming down on hers caught her completely by surprise. At first she didn't respond, her mind several steps behind what her body was trying to tell her. Only when his free hand turned her face upward did she finally catch up.

"You are _killing_ me," he whispered against her mouth. "Is that what you want to hear? Do you want me to admit that you are grinding my resolve and my restraint to dust?"

Severus took her lips with his again, not bothering to wait for an answer, and Hermione could feel herself sink into him. His mouth was deft and sure, but as she tried to mirror the way he moved around her, her pulse thrummed along with the pain in her head, making it impossible to think. He drove her back one step at a time until Hermione became aware of the mattress pressing into the back of her legs, and in that moment she felt something shift between them.

It was as if they had finally accepted the unspoken connection that had formed between them over the last several weeks, the same bond that was molded and shaped by everything they had been through and everything they had yet to face. It was terrifying, but it was right.

Severus pulled back as she sat on the edge of bed, but he was still close enough for Hermione to feel his breath on her lips and his hair as it fell forward. He kissed her again, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck, and said, "Need I tell you more?"

She pulled him forward, eager to feel him against her, desperate to forget the dull ache that was everywhere else. He relented more easily than she had expected, his body now hovering over hers. This time, her mouth captured his first as he pushed her back onto the bed. She held back somewhat timidly, fearing she would come off as clumsy or inexperienced, but when she heard him utter a single, deep groan, it told her she had done everything precisely right.

Hermione reached upward, touching the fabric of his shirt, and noticed she wasn't the only one breathing heavily. There was desperation in each breath he took, and she was determined to answer it then and there, with his hips pinning her to the bed. One hand found his hair, allowing the strands to become woven between her fingers, while the other snaked down his back, pulling him closer.

"Patience…" Severus breathed against her ear. The chills went down her neck and spread. One of his hands hooked behind her knee, drawing it up, and when the faint moan managed to slip from between her lips, he went rigid.

"We have to stop," he said, his eyes pinched closed. The composure of his voice was forced just as much as his words, it seemed.

For a moment, every single thought in her mind disappeared, wiped away by a silent blast of embarrassment and betrayal. Hermione turned away, trying to hide the redness creeping across her face, and ashamed at herself for allowing the situation to unravel as it had. She had known this was coming, the harsh rejection she had been preparing for since the moment she realised she had developed feelings for him. Severus had never truly cast her away, but he had never given her a solid indication he wouldn't. She thought back to the night she had confronted him about what had taken place at the Riddle House and in his kitchen, recalling how he had blamed it all on a lapse of judgment. Hermione also remembered how he became reserved the days afterward, attempting to keep his distance, watching what he said around her. It hardly made sense when she was perfectly well, but now, in her depleted state, it made even less. Regardless of what was happening, one this was certain: she didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did.

"Because it'll be something we'll both come to bitterly regret in the end, right?" Hermione asked in a strangely emotionless and flat voice.

"No." Severus came to rest on his elbow, but did not ease all of his weight of her. Their legs were still tangled around the bed linens when he kissed her again. "It's because I won't be able to stop myself if we continue."

She had nothing to say to that.

Severus pushed himself off of her, righting his clothes as he sat up. When Hermione sat upright herself she noticed that she had managed to wriggle the tail end of his shirt from his trousers when she had pulled him forward. She reached over, flattening the rumple of cloth, and rested her head on his shoulder.

Severus gave a tiny little smile when he looked down at her. One arm pulled her closer, and he laced his fingers with hers, his thumb tracing languid patterns over the darkened one. "Now you know."

And even though she truly knew, Hermione still felt off balance. She was not used to feeling at a loss. She was the one who always had the plan. Now, it all seemed to be scattered with the winter wind; her better judgment tugging her one direction while he pulled her in the other. "What are we going to do?" she asked him, feeling an uneasy fluttering in the pit of her stomach.

"What we must," Severus answered. He hung his head, trying to disguise the fact he looked plainly miserable.

"And when this is all over?" she asked, unhappy with the limp quality of her voice.

He lifted an eyebrow at that, smiling faintly again. "You needn't worry yourself over that." Severus's cheek rested against Hermione's temple before he kissed the top of her head. "I need to let you sleep."

"I'm not tired." Hermione knew if she told him the truth, he would leave her out of courtesy. She wasn't ready to give him up just yet. She wasn't ready for the wall to be built between them again, not after she had finally managed to force it down.

"You couldn't lie to save your life," Severus said, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Luckily I have you so I don't have too," she answered timidly, looking down at their socked feet. His grazed the floor, while hers dangled a few inches shy. _All of this will be over when I wake up in the morning_ , Hermione thought, her foot brushing across the top of his. Severus started to stand moments later, but she refused to let his hand free.

"Does it matter that I don't want you to go?"

Severus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "This will only make things harder, you know that."

"I know, but…" Hermione couldn't think properly. Her head was beginning to pound deeply now. She knew it would only worsen the longer she sat upright. "…would you stay, at least until I fall asleep?"

Severus regarded her for a moment, as if searching for an unexpected reserve of the resolve he claimed she had stolen from him. Perhaps seconds later, when he sat back down and propped himself against the headboard, Hermione knew that he hadn't found any.

* * *

Author's Notes: As always, reviews are welcomed and greatly appreciated.


	32. No Rest for The Wicked

**Characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter Universe. Thankfully, she allows me to borrow them for a bit of fun.**

* * *

**Chapter 31**

**No Rest for the Wicked**

 

Severus awoke with a sudden jolt to the sound of shuffling footfall echoing down the hall. He listened carefully, despite the beginnings of a vague headache, and heard the door to the loo click shut.

 _So much for a lie in_ , he thought, and dug the heel of his hands into his closed eyes. He could have very well spent the remainder of the morning asleep. It had taken him very little time to drift into unconsciousness even though he had been sitting upright with his back against the headboard for the better part of four hours. Severus swung his legs off the bed with wince, taking care not to disturb Hermione, who still lay snoring with her head pillowed on her arm.

Sleep, when it would have anything to do with him at all, rarely left Severus feeling rested, but rather seemed to accentuate the fact that he was running on fumes. Today was going to be no different, it seemed. He put on his boots, not bothering to properly lace them up, and walked across the room to peer out of the window.

It had snowed massively during the night and was still snowing, the tiny, iridescent flakes blanketing the dingy streets. The bitter cold had set in sometime during the night, and had seemed to draw Cokeworth's vagrants from their holes. Severus counted half dozen of them—all foreign to him—shambling around a makeshift burn barrel, beating their arms to encourage circulation or drinking from dark coloured bottles in paper sacks to maintain a suitable temperature.

With very little warning, a creeping chill descended down his neck, causing the fine hairs to stand on end. Severus let the thick curtains fall back into place, blaming the cold air for the sudden uncomfortable feeling, but knew deep down it was something else entirely. He turned for the bedroom door, his unlaced boots falling heavily on the floor. Hermione stirred at the sound of his foot treading on a loose board, but did not wake. He stalled just as his hand touched the door latch and stared at her, watching as she lay there peacefully oblivious, alive, and for the most part well, and felt the same sharp flutter of dread again.

He did not know what to do, and he was running out of time to figure it out.

Severus let himself out of the room, closed the door as quietly as the aged hinges would allow, and slammed directly into the dark-haired figure waiting behind him. In the span of a breath, Severus had drawn his wand and had pointed it directly between a pair of bespectacled eyes. Harry held both hands up in surrender, his face a ghostly pale as the tip of Snape's Hawthorn wand that grazed the bridge of his glasses. "For God's sake, Potter," he snapped. "I almost had your head off."

"How is she?" Harry ducked away from the wand and adjusted his glasses. "Did she wake up?"

Severus frowned, then said, "She's fine." He sidestepped past Harry and headed for the stairs, and feeling wonderful relief not to have to tell another lie. "She woke last night, not an hour after I sent you off to bed."

Harry followed him like a shadow, his tone accusatory. "Why didn't you wake us?"

"I didn't see the point. Both you and Mister Weasley needed sleep, and she was in no state for company. Miss Granger was coherent long enough for me to give her something to reduce the fever."

"You should have—"

"Give it a rest, Harry."

Severus looked over his shoulder to see Hermione standing in the doorway, and Harry, who appeared to have forgotten his quarrel, turned abruptly at the sound of her voice. She took a cautious step out into the hall as if she did not trust her own feet only to have Harry throw his arms around her in an embrace. Hermione gathered the fabric of his shirt in her hands as though holding onto a lifeline, and began to cry, apologizing over and over for her lack of judgment and decent sense the previous evening.

For a moment, Severus felt a pang of poisonous resentment, and was thankful his back was turned to both of them. He knew his reaction was not only ridiculous, but unfair given the circumstances. The two Gryffindors had been inseparable over the last six years at Hogwarts. They had jeopardized life and limb—though Severus felt the scales tipped heavily in Hermione's favour as opposed to Potter's—to ensure that they made it safely out of whatever crucible they faced at the time.

The implication of such a chaotic relationship was unmistakable. They were solid pillars in each others' lives—an altogether foreign notion for someone accustomed to acting as a stepping stone. Severus swallowed whatever ill feelings still ingered and descended the stairs, leaving them to their reunion.

It was absurd to indulge in such thoughts, especially considering their current circumstance. Time had not been on their side, and now it seemed even less so with Narcissa Malfoy lost in the wind. Narcissa had taken precedent in his mind as of late, but still he believed she was not as threatening as her absence suggested. Narcissa Malfoy was in a rotten situation that had even more precipitous consequences, and that, Severus believed, would be the only thing that would keep her mouth shut.

Severus rekindled the fire in the sitting room, and pulled the curtains to block out the chink of light that had broken through the grey haze. There was very little chance of someone finding the house, what with all of the protective enchantments, but there was no point to risk it in light of recent events. Satisfied, he went to the kitchen in search of a strong cup of tea.

The tea kettle and mismatched cups still sat on the kitchen table, forgotten in the previous evening's excitement. Severus could have easily sent the dirty dishes to the sink with a spell, but instead busied himself by clearing the table and running dishwater as a means to have something productive to do. He was able to think more clearly, when his hands had something to do, even if it was completing some thoughtless task.

He had little time alone with his thoughts, however, as Hermione soon joined him in the kitchen. "Good morning," she said in an obviously forced attempt to brighten the mood. For a moment he wondered if he was truly that transparent or if she simply had a knack for reading between the lines. Severus gave her an appraising look and returned her greeting with a nod. "There's no breakfast yet, I'm afraid," he said as he motioned toward the dishes in the sink.

"That's fine," she assured him. "I don't particularly feel like eating, anyway."

"I do," a voice said from over her shoulder, causing her to jump. She turned to find that Ron had made his way to the kitchen as well.

"Shocking," she replied with a sarcastic smile. "I'll see what I can find in the cupboard." Hermione made her way to the cupboard and set to work making breakfast. Harry joined them not long after that and soon the four of them were sitting around the small kitchen table eating in relative silence.

"Well," Harry said eventually, breaking the awkward hush that had settled on the room, "shouldn't we discuss what we're going to do next? We probably don't have much time now. Narcissa is probably on her way to tell Voldemort exactly where we are. That is, if she hasn't already."

"Yes, Potter, I'm very well aware of the direness of our current predicament," Severus said, his voice cross. "However, we can't afford to act hastily. We have to be calculated in our planning, or we run the risk of playing right into the Dark Lord's hand."

"Well, we can't stay here much longer," Harry said. "And we still haven't decided what we're going to do with Bellatrix."

"I know what to do about her," Ron said with a mouth full of scone, drawing a harsh glare from Hermione. "What?" he said incredulously. "She'd do the same to us in a second."

"That's not the point, Ron," Hermione admonished.

"Then what is the point, Hermione? We can't let her go, and we can't just put her on a leash and bring her with us. It's too dangerous. So, what's your plan?"

"If I had one we wouldn't be sitting here arguing about it, would we?" Hermione snapped, and slammed her teacup on the table. From the look of her, Severus could tell she was on the brink of leaving the room to avoid the squabbling. He started to say something, to attempt to diffuse the situation before it could get out of hand, but a loud crash emanating from the corner of the kitchen caused the words to die on his tongue.

Severus, out of panic more than instinct, jerked Hermione off of her chair and into the floor and positioned himself between her and whatever had just made its way into the house. Ron and Harry were several seconds behind him in reaction, but had and pointed their wands on the now-toppled potato bin and the few dozen red potatoes rolling across the floor.

"Show yourself," Harry commanded, and when the intruder did not acquiesce right away, he sent a Stunning Spell barreling toward the bin. The spiraling red beam never reached its mark, but was deflected back in the opposite direction, causing the three wizards to duck for cover when it splintered a rather crude painting that hung on the wall behind them.

"Potter!" Severus roared. "That is enough!"

"Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked a painfully adenoidal voice. A moment later, a pair of large green eyes and shaking, bat-like ears appeared from behind the wooden box. The House-elf wore a baffled expression, as if he had found himself suddenly lost. "Dobby is a friend!"

"Dobby!" Harry lowered his wand and moved quickly to help the struggling creature bring the wooden bin upright. "What are you doing here?"

The elf tugged at his oversized socks and rocked back and forth on his heels trying in vain to keep from stumbling on the potatoes. "Dobby came as soon as he could, sir, to warn Harry Potter and his friends."

"Warn us?" Hermione repeated, making her way to her feet. Severus offered her a steadying hand, which she accepted with a faint squeeze. "Warn us about what?"

"About Mistress Malfoy," Dobby replied. The elf gave an ominous sigh as if to prepare himself for what he was about to say. "Dobby tried to come sooner, but could not risk being seen sneaking about."

Severus took an abrupt step forward, descending on the House-elf like a malevolent storm cloud. "Well, what is it?"

Dobby shot an incredulous look at Severus before speaking. "Mistress Malfoy has been to Hogwarts. The Headmaster," he continued slowly, as though the words were sharp in his throat, "knows that Harry Potter and his friends live."

The kitchen became silent and cold.

There it was. The moment Severus had dreaded but expected all the same. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair, allowing the words to gather meaning. The atmosphere shifted the longer he sat there staring at the elf, though his eyes seemed to be elsewhere, somewhere distant. The room seemed to be closing in around him.

"Did she tell him where we are?" Ron blurted, breaking the silence. The colour had drained from his face. He looked as if he were about to be sick. "Do they know where to find us?"

Dobby tugged on his socks once again, shaking his head. "Dobby only heard Mistress Malfoy speak of Harry Potter and Severus Snape. Dobby heard her say she could deliver Potter and his friends to the Headmaster."

"This doesn't change anything," Hermione said. Her voice was odd and flat. Severus felt her hand go from the wooden back of the chair to his shoulder as she went on. "We expected her to do this. We've taken every precaution in terms of protection."

"We have to leave," Harry disagreed.

"Where are we going to go?" Hermione asked. She looked to Ron helplessly, and when he only shook his head without a word she said, "I don't like this situation anymore than the two of you, but we've got to face the facts here. Severus says this place is protected against—"

"Like the Burrow?" Harry snapped. He gave Severus a level look, and Severus found it hard to miss the poorly-hidden bitterness on his face. "I guess you've forgotten how that ended, and that was with the Order and half of the Ministry behind it!"

"We are not leaving," Severus said, as if the argument was settled.

"Give me one damn reason why we should stay!" Harry yelled.

Severus made his best attempt to keep a level head amidst all the panicked stammering swarming the room. "Give me a moment's peace from your ceaseless squabbling, Potter, and perhaps I can figure out what to do." Harry shot him a harshly acidic look, but nevertheless fell silent. Severus turned to face Dobby. "Did you see anything else, anyone else? Did they say or do anything peculiar during the exchange?"

Dobby froze, his pointed face screwing up in a manner that suggested he was trying very hard to recall every detail of what he had witnessed. "Mistress Malfoy swore him to secrecy," Dobby admitted finally. "She took his thoughts on the matter and left with them in the Headmaster's own teacup."

Harry made a face. "Why would she do that? Why would she tell him only to take the memory of it immediately afterward?"

Severus ignored Harry, his attention instead on the House-elf. "Go to Hogwarts immediately and alert Minerva that things are progressing more quickly than we had imagined. Tell her to forget the Portkey we discussed previously. That is out of the question." Severus rubbed at the side of his head as he began to pace. His headache was anything but vague at this point. "Say nothing more. Lucius cannot know that Minerva has had any contact with me. If he were to find out," he paused, unable to form the words.

"He'd torture her," Hermione finished, the graveness of the situation heavy in her voice.

"Dobby, do you understand?" Harry asked, stepping forward. "It's very important."

"Dobby understands," the House-elf brimmed with confidence. "Dobby will deliver the message to Professor McGonagall and say nothing else. Dobby will not let Harry Potter and his friends down." With a nod of assurance and a snap of his fingers, Dobby vanished.

"This has gone straight to hell," Ron said. Unable to supress his displeasure of the entire situation, he kicked one of the potatoes across the room, where it connected with the wall with a shallow thump. "We should have never brought them here."

"We couldn't leave them there," Hermione said after a moment of hesitation. "They would have gone to You-Know-Who the moment we left them. We would still be in this position, but without Bellatrix Lestrange sitting above our heads in chains." She turned to Severus, her eyes searching his face, as though she was trying to tease out his plans. "That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

Severus found that he had no answer to that. As far as he was concerned, Bellatrix Lestrange was out of the picture until he found a use for her. What continued to puzzle him, however, was how grievously he had misjudged her sister's character. He recalled the last time he had spoken to her about her intentions—her true intentions. Severus had thought he had seen the possibility to sway her opinion. He had seen the way she had looked at him when she considered his words. He had either overestimated his assumption of her, or Narcissa Malfoy was prepared to go above and beyond when the situation called for it.

"Perhaps," Severus said after a moment of reflection, "the elf did not see what he thought." Such a statement drew three skeptical looks, but before anyone could protest he went on. "She knows where we are. She can lead the Dark Lord through the front door, but she prevented it by taking the memory from Lucius before he could act on it. There is a reason for that."

"That doesn't make any sense at all," Ron said. He scratched his head as though trying to force the meaning behind it all to take shape. "I mean that sort of defeats the purpose of escaping, doesn't it?"

There was a split second of hesitation in which Severus considered his options. He had purposefully withheld what he had seen in Narcissa mind when he searched her thoughts, and what he knew about her for a very specific reason: Narcissa, at that present time, had not been given the choice to choose the path she wanted to take. Severus had seen it, felt it, hidden away in the part of her mind where he imagined she kept a great number of secrets regarding her family and their doctrines.

Severus did not doubt her beliefs concerning Pure Blood ideology; they had been too deeply engrained in her youth to ever be fully expunged, and were unlikely to change regardless of the outcome of the war. No, what he saw in her was the desire to be rid of it all, the overwhelming tiredness of having to constantly fear for her safety and the safety of those she held most dear. Her life had become a mess of bare, frayed threads, and it had taken the events of the previous evening and the blistering encounter with her sister for her to finally decide which threads could be cut and still allow her to survive the fall. It was with that logic and the strong inclination that Narcissa had made a decision—and the right one, it seemed—that he simply shook his head and said, with dispassionate clarity, "I let her go."

It was as if all of the air had been sucked from the room. "What?" Harry said with equal parts disbelief and outrage. "Why in seven hells would you do that? You've doomed us all."

"Don't be so dramatic, Potter," Severus cut in, his tone as sharp as flint. "Do you honestly think I would do something that would put us in danger? I have reason to believe that Narcissa's allegiance has changed. Letting her go makes that proposition even more likely."

"What on earth would make you believe that?" Ron asked. "The Malfoys have been loyal to You-Know-Who for ages. What makes you think she'll change now?"

"Ron's right," Harry added before Severus had time to answer. "I don't trust any last one of them, Narcissa Malfoy included. She's a cornerstone of a family that would deceive you if they had the first chance—especially if it is to save their own skin."

"Exactly," Severus said and with an air of self-satisfaction. "The one thing Narcissa values above all else is Draco. Now, he's been put in harm's way more than once by the Dark Lord and his followers. She knows there is very little chance of her family coming out of this war intact, especially if they continue to be important pieces in the Dark Lord's plans, and she has grown tired of it."

"But why tell Lucius?" Hermione asked. "Better yet, why tell him only to take the conversation straight back?"

"Narcissa Malfoy is a great many things, but an idiot is not one of them," Severus said. "If she took some memory from Lucius's mind, she is obviously trying to conceal something from the Dark Lord should he choose to go probing for it."

"Then why tell him in the first place," Hermione persisted. "What is there to gain from that?"

It galled him to admit he did not know the answer to that himself, but he said it anyway. "Of that, we can't be sure. We don't even know which memory she took, or how much of it. But I can assure you, Narcissa was given the opportunity to hand us over to the Dark Lord, yet she chose not to do so."

"Not yet," Harry said, scornfully. "It could all be for show. A ploy to make you think she's developed a righteous streak. Mark my words, we'll pay for this." He shot Severus one more look of white-hot loathing before he turned and stormed out of the room, swearing as he went.

"I'll go talk to him," Ron said. As he was leaving, he looked in Hermione's direction, widened his eyes and nodded almost imperceptiblely toward Severus, a poorly-disguised admonition that she needed to talk some sense into their former professor.

The remainder of the day progressed in the manner Severus had expected following the rather eventful breakfast. Unease permeated the house like a dense fog, yet no one had the desire to discuss it. Instead, Harry and Ron had taken a passive jab at him by packing their rucksacks and keeping them close should the situation arise that would merit a quick escape. He had ignored the plotting, and even the snide remarks whispered just loudly enough for him to hear, but when Harry had positioned himself by the front room window and remained there with his eyes upon the roaming drifters, Severus had had enough and stalked out of the room. Hermione had, on several unsuccessful occasions, attempted to act as the arbitrator for the group, but the churlishness of the situation had only succeeded in her giving up and largely ignoring the lot of them.

It was now nearing dinner, and Severus found himself still sitting at the kitchen table with nothing but a months-old  _Daily Prophet_  issue and a half-empty tea cup. Hermione had joined him not an hour before with her beaded purple bag and a cup of tea of her own, but had very little to say. He could tell she was torn between trusting his instincts and her own, and more than once she stopped organizing the contents of her bag and would look up at him as though she intended to say something. She never did, though Severus was at a loss as to whether she was too weary to pursue it, or simply could not quite make herself do so.

He had half a mind to ask her what she wanted to say outright, but another voice penetrated the silence to which they had both grown accustomed so sharply that they both jumped. "There's something strange outside," Harry said. "You might want to take a look."

Severus and Hermione followed Harry to the window at the front of the house. Ron had the curtain pushed back and was staring across the street. Severus moved alongside him and traced his gaze to a man standing beside a barrel that had once contained a roaring fire.

"He's been there all day," Harry said. "All the others left hours ago when the fire went out, but this one…he's been standing there, staring. He hasn't moved and he never spoke to the rest of them. He just keeps staring right at us, almost as if he can see us."

"That's impossible," Hermione said. She shot Severus an nervous glance. "The house is Secret-kept. There's no way he could see us."

Severus stared at the man for a few moments and saw that Potter's description was accurate. The man's eyes seemed to bore holes through the front door of his home. Something was quite odd and quite unsettling about the man's presence, and he determined to find out why.

"It seems very strange indeed," Severus said at long last. "I'm going to figure out what he's doing."

"I'll go with you," Harry added at once.

"No," Severus rebutted quickly. "We can't have you out in the open. We have no idea what agents the Dark Lord may have milling about."

"If he sees you," Hermione protested, "he could hex you on sight."

"That's why I require something from Potter—his Invisibility Cloak."

Harry seemed taken aback, but nonetheless fetched the cloak from his rucksack by the door and handed it to Severus. "I agree with Hermione. It's bad idea for you to go alone."

"Don't worry, Potter," Severus said with more than a touch of sarcasm. "I'll make sure your father's blessed cloak gets back to you safely." He slung the cloak over his shoulders, and with just his head visible to the three of them he said, "Do not leave the house under any circumstance." With that, he disappeared fully beneath the cloak and a loud crack shook the room.

The wind made it nearly impossible to stay hidden beneath the cloak as it whipped down the darkened street. Overhead, the pitiful street lamp was swaying violently, casting ominous shadows on the nearby façades. Severus, who found himself waging a fierce battle with the gusts, was now only a few feet from the man and the barrel that had once provided much-needed warmth for the vagabonds of Spinner's End. He had expected the man to give a sudden jump when the sharp crack echoed down the lane, but the drifter remained steadfast and unmoving.

As he approached, Severus could see that the man was visibly shivering—and quite violently at that—but he also could hear the faint sound of his voice mumbling something incomprehensible. Severus was nearly upon the stranger before he was able to make out what he was saying.

"Sanctimona Vincet Semper …" the man mumbled. The streetlamp overhead caught his eyes, giving the impression that they were glazed over, almost porcelain-like. Severus stepped around him in a prudent circle, sensing something was indeed very wrong. "Sanctimona Vincet Semper …" he said again. His misaligned pupils darted to the gloomy houses on the other side of the street, as if searching the darkness of their own accord. Severus realised after the light caught him again that the man had something knotted between his frozen fingers. It looked as though he held what once had been a brown paper sack. Now the thing was soggy, crumpled and frayed to the point it was almost useless. Severus made to prise it from his trembling hands, but the man, sensing someone closing in on the sack, staggered back.

"Sanctimona Vincet Semper of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," he sputtered. His sandpaper voice shook from shivering and his grip tightened around the sack. "Sanctimona Vincet Semper of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Beseech to Charing Cross Road by way of the carrying key." The man's eyes grew wide in their sockets; He looked as though he had been struck by lightning. "Through the Cauldron and up the stairs with phial of faith and key!"

To any Muggle the message would have been a senseless string of words muttered by someone who was obviously mentally unstable, but for Severus the meaning was already beginning to take shape the longer he gave it thought. Narcissa Malfoy had gone above and beyond after all, though her methods were somewhat questionable.

Severus lowered the Invisibility Cloak, and the stranger simply stared at him as though trying to puzzle through how someone could simply appear out of thin air. After a moment of reflection he gave a maniacal grin, revealing a mouth of yellowed and missing teeth, and  simply said, "Severus Snape must make haste, Sanctimona Vincet Semper has not long to wait." He dropped the paper sack at Severus's feet, and stalked off down the street as though he had just remembered that he had somewhere very important to be.

With his foot, Severus tore away what was left of the paper sack to reveal what appeared to be a small antique snuffbox with the Malfoy Family crest and corresponding family motto: Sanctimona Vincet Semper. " _P_ urity will always conquer," Severus said to himself. He picked up the silver box and opened it.

He recognized almost immediately the round phial containing one of the most deadly concoctions of the Wizirding word—Bloodbane. He had only ever read about the poison derived from cursed blood, but had never known of anyone ignorant enough to actually fasten themselves to something that was so insidiously dangerous. It was used for blackmail or murder. For good measure, he held it up to the light and saw a hank of yellow hair, the binder Narcissa had used to tie herself to the poison. She had just gifted him her life in a bottle, so to speak. He stowed the phial in his pocket for safe keeping

Inside the box, there was also a skeleton key baring the image of the Leaky Cauldron on one side and a room number on the other. He left that in the box and secured the lid before making his way to the house. Just as his feet were about to take him in the direction of his house, however, the box had taken on a ghostly blue hue. Severus felt the sudden sickening jolt behind his gut, but was already gone from Spinner's End and Cokeworth before he had time to react.

His feet connected awkwardly with the icy pavement running along Charing Cross Road moments later, and he staggered against a nearby store front to catch his footing. The weather was just as dismal in London as it had been in Cokeworth, which had kept the number of Muggles traveling by foot to a minimum; he may well have been the only person on the streets. As a precaution, he ducked under the Invisibility Cloak once again.

He knew the others at Spinner's End were likely beside themselves, and he knew he ought to go back and explain things properly, but the sight of the Leaky Cauldron sitting on the opposite side of the street made him reconsider going back. The unfortunate stranger Narcissa had cursed to do her bidding had been standing outside all day, and possibly the majority of the previous night. This also meant Narcissa had likely been waiting for him to take notice of her request. With thoughts of risking an opportunity to speak with Narcissa, Severus cast a Patronus Charm explaining his sudden disappearance, and sent the silver doe on its way to Cokeworth with the message.

Severus spotted the familiar façade of the Leaky Cauldron across the street. He decided it was best to remain under the Invisibility Cloak, but faced the problem of gaining entrance as a door opening and closing on its own would be sure to attract lots of attention, which was the last thing he needed. As he drew near to the entrance, he saw his opportunity – several wooden crates had been stacked next to the door. Severus kicked the bottom crate, sending the rest of the crates toppling over with a loud crash. The crash was sufficient enough to prompt the innkeeper Tom to open the door swiftly. He looked around and, after seeing nothing, began to restack the crates while muttering curses under his breath as Severus went in unnoticed.

Severus navigated the crowded pub carefully and somehow managed to make it to the staircase without bumping into anyone, at least not hard enough for them to notice. The old, wooden steps creaked noisily under his feet, but no one paid it any attention. He hastened his pace as he neared the room indicated on the key. Without knocking, he opened the door and saw a familiar blonde woman seated at a table in the room's center. Narcissa Malfoy stood at once, her face solemn yet somehow oddly relieved. "I didn't think you would see me."

"After an invitation like that, how could I refuse?" Severus said. "Though I must ask; why something so fatal as Bloodbane? You might as well have bottled your own soul."

"Don't speak to me like I'm a child, Severus. I knew you would never agree to see me unless you held the upper hand, so I gave it to you."

Severus watched as her gaze traveled from the phial in his hand to his face. If she was nervous, she did not show it with the mask of indifference she wore. Still, he had a sneaking suspicion it was not above her to leap from where she stood and try to tear the phial away should their meeting end badly. She had taken a massive risk; he just did not know her motives yet.

"I would also like to have the phial back once we're finished here," she continued as if such a request had been a nagging afterthought she had only recently remembered. She turned, leaving Severus standing by the door, and walked away toward a nearby serving table.

"That could be arranged if what you have to offer me proves to be more valuable," Severus said. The words were dripping with venomous sincerity, and he waited, rolling the corked bottle between his fingers, for the threat to reach its mark. Narcissa looked up at him in an instant, frozen halfway through the act of pouring a glass of Port Wine.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes and sat the wine bottle back on the table with an emphatic smack. She hesitated, though Severus could sense it was not out of a conflict of conscience, but rather her trying to control her tongue, lest she say something she would come to regret. "Shall we get down to the business side of things, then?"

Severus gave her a wry smile and strode over to the seat opposite Narcissa. He was not entirely prepared for her sudden display of moxie, especially considering she fled like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs just the day before.

The host eased herself into the nearest chair with all the nonchalance of a spoiled cat, folded her hands in her lap and said, "I told Lucius I know where Bellatrix is. He also knows that you and Harry Potter are alive."

Severus looked astonished. Then he laughed. "You give me a bottle of your blood that you cursed yourself—knowing what I could do with it—only to tell me something I already knew? I expected more from you."

For a moment, Narcissa seemed to be stunned by the reaction her revelation provoked, then her lips pressed into a thin line and she glared at him. "You wouldn't know significance if it struck you in the face, Severus Snape. Don't you see what I've done?"

"I'd rather you just explain it to me," he answered. Severus poured a glass of Port wine for himself and settled more comfortably in his chair. "Whenever you are ready."

"Can we not just call this reluctant tolerance what it is?" Narcissa snapped. "I can get you on the inside, and you can keep my family safe by putting an end to this." She sniffed and took a liberal drink from her glass. "The groundwork has already been laid with Lucius—"

"How is that possible, exactly? I was under the impression that his memory has been wiped of your encounter," Severus cut across her. "Is there any truth to that?"

Narcissa stalled, looked at him with a mixture of shock and panic. "How do you know that?"

"Let's just say I have a reliable presence at Hogwarts and leave it at that," Severus said. "At any rate, what did you take from him?"

"Only the conversation we had about the fiasco at the Manor. If the Dark Lord knew that he and Draco had let Bella escape that would have been the final straw. He knows that you are alive, and he knows Harry Potter is alive. Like I said, the groundwork is there."

"I let you go for a reason, Narcissa, and it was not to play games. I let you go because you and I both know your situation has become something undesirable as of late." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I trust that you've come to the understanding that your time of hiding in the shadows is at its end, what with the threats from Bellatrix and the Dark Lord."

Narcissa nodded, but remained silent.

"If you intend to survive this, sacrifices will have to be made." Severus swirled the rose-colored liquid in his glass, testing her resolve. Her face remained stern, unreadable, despite the lingering silence. She would not be breaking any time soon, he guessed. "Bellatrix is a problem. I can't say with certainty that I'll allow her to live, nor can I speak for the Dark Lord, but I can tell you that I have a plan in mind that involves her."

Narcissa hesitated, taking a liberal sip of wine, then frowned. "She has made her choice, as I have made mine. As much as it pains me to say it, I doubt any amount of mending can repair the damage she has done. Do with her what you will."

"Look at you," Severus taunted. "You've grown quite the spine since we last spoke."

Narcissa offered a cold smile and finished the rest of her wine. "My so-called spine has very little to do with this if you can't muster the testicular fortitude to see to what needs to be done. We're all dead if you don't."

Severus gave her a pointed look and drained the Port from his glass. "Still, I need to know without a shadow of a doubt that I can trust you."

"Have I not done enough for you?" she hissed. "Tell me, what more—"

"Enough, Narcissa," Severus said. When she saw the look on his face, his fist clasped around the phial, she seemed to shrink back in her chair. "We've both been surrounded by this madness long enough to know that you simply have to play along until it is finished. Can I trust you to deliver a convincing performance when the time calls for it?"

"You and I both know there is no rest for the wicked, Severus—you have my word, though it would be easier for me to play along if I knew exactly what it is you are planning."

"All will be revealed in due time," Severus said. "But what I can tell you is that there is something of great importance at Hogwarts, and that we will be going there to retrieve it in a matter of days."

"Another Horcrux?"

"I can't say with certainty, but Potter is sure of it," Severus admitted. "It is crucial we retrieve the item before we act against the Dark Lord. Should he discover our intentions, things could go quite badly very quickly."

"What do you need me to do?" Narcissa asked.

"Lucius cannot be in the castle when we arrive, nor can any of the other staff that would pose a threat. Invite them to your home, keep them busy. We need time to find what it is we are looking for without interruption."

Narcissa stared down at her hands, twisting the ring that bore the Malfoy family crest around her finger. She looked up after several seconds and eyed him carefully. "That is easily arranged if you are certain it will work."

"If my instructions are followed to the letter there will be little chance for error. The Dark Lord will not know something is amiss until it is too late, and by that time we will be gone." Severus stood abruptly and turned for the door. "I'll contact you discreetly by owl to let you know when we intend to move."

"Severus, wait." Narcissa said sharply and held out her hand. "We had an agreement. I'd like the phial."

Severus stopped just short of the door and turned to face her, the phial still in his hand. He regarded it thoughtfully, the placed it in his front trouser pocket with a smile. "Consider it collateral, Narcissa," he said, and before she could protest, he Disapparated on the spot with deafening crack.

— — —

Bellatrix Lestrange had always thought she would die as she had lived, with a wand in her hand a curse upon her lips.

While she believed that wholeheartedly, she knew with much stronger conviction that she was to spend the rest of her waking days walking beside the Dark Lord. Bellatrix had planned it from the start, scheming and plotting like some lovesick schoolgirl the moment she had learned of the wizard who called himself Voldemort.

It had been foolproof in her mind, the glorious idea she had devised in her youth, but the longer she thought on it, especially in the current circumstances, the less likely it seemed. In her perfect world, she would have helped him solidify a strong, Pureblood Wizarding society by any means necessary, and proved herself loyal to him in the process. When it was all said and done, when they had defeated his enemies, Bellatrix would have been by his side, all of those who opposed them and their reign lying in a heap at their feet.

 _I would have not only gained his respect and gratitude, but his devotion as well,_ she thought _,_ testing the cuffs around her wrists for what must have been the twentieth time in the last ten minutes. Just as they had the last nineteen times, the shackles remained steadfast, and her patience dwindled further. She knew she should have given up squirming, saved her strength for when the golden opportunity to flee presented itself, but she had grown too restless to simply bide her time.

Bellatrix sagged against the wall, her arms hanging over her head. It had been hours since she had last spoken to Narcissa and learned of Snape's intentions to destroy the goblet. It was quite obvious they had failed to do so, considered she was still chained to the wall.  _What are they waiting for?_

She closed her eyes, straining to hear even the slightest sound coming from beyond the four wood-paneled walls. The combination of the silence and the thudding of her pulse in her own ears was not only enough to hurt, but enough to cause a tiny flicker of fear to settle in the pit of her stomach.

Bellatrix Lestrange had never been a woman to fear things. Fear, she had always thought, was a temperamental mistress that had potential to work to one's advantage one day and cut them down the next. It was quite easy to dwell upon if one was not careful. Fear was a strange, twisted story of uncertainty people told themselves when they were alone with their thoughts. Bella rarely had the time for fear with the Dark Lord so close to achieving his ambitions, but unfortunately all she had in the current moment was time and her thoughts.

She had failed, and failure carried a heavy and sometimes deadly sentence in the Dark Lord's eyes.

"Severus Snape, I know you can hear me!" Bellatrix shouted, jerking the cuffs and chains taut. The metal bit into her wrists with renewed force, cutting off the rest of her angry tirade. Bellatrix took a ragged breath as her body drew up into a tight knot frustration and she released an ear splitting scream that would have set the windows to rattling had there been any in the room.

"It will not end this way," she said through clenched teeth, ignoring the fact that the words felt woefully inadequate. There was a very real chance it was going to end this way, despite the fact that she refused to think on it. Looking up at her hands which were cold and numb from lack of proper circulation, her eyes caught sight of the Dark Mark peeking out from beneath her sleeve. Something, a faint glimmer of hope perhaps, seemed to reach deep into her chest and squeeze, and for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, the tides appeared to be changing in her favour.

She only needed to reach the Mark and she was free.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope those of you who follow this story enjoy this update. I know it has been a long time in coming, and I apologize for that. I can blame it on any number of things, but the bottom line was that I needed a break to recharge and work on some new stuff. This story will never be abandoned, and I swear the end is in sight. At any rate, please remember reviews are always welcomed and greatly appreciated. I wish you many hours of happy reading!


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